


Hard Pursuits

by Scarlett_Lamour



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Death, As always not beta’d/not edited, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Graphic Violence, I don’t edit, Illness, Mild knife play, Slow Burn, Smut, TB doesn’t exist, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-10-24 23:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Lamour/pseuds/Scarlett_Lamour
Summary: Nettie is a hardened bounty hunter with a past she’d rather forget. A bounty gone wrong lands her in the middle of the Van der Linde Gang and friends with their head muscle, Arthur Morgan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in some nebulous time before Blackwater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I''m not real sure exactly where this is going so I'll update tags as I go. I'm sure it's going somewhere though, I always get to the end eventually.

She had a scar on her face. It was a nasty thing, webbing out from the corner of her mouth to the base of her jaw like a spider had spun it there. One long branch curved up to her right eye. Though long healed, it had once been deep and still made weak bellied people cringe when they first saw it. There wasn’t much to be done about it, and it didn’t bother her. Most of the time. In her line of work it was almost expected to have a couple scars littered across your body.

Nettie wasn’t one to pay much mind to what people thought of her. Being a Bounty Hunter did that to a person. She’d been called just about every curse word and insult under the sun. Sometimes in a language she didn’t even speak. But when the most recent bounty she’d caught called her _pretty_, well, she’d taken offense to that. Cursing her name was one thing, but lying? Even worse, lying to manipulate her. That she just couldn’t abide. 

Of course, she had saved his life. Sure, it was to take him in to hang but that didn’t change what she’d done. It’d been late in the day, evening already creeping in under the canopy of trees. She’d tracked the outlaw long miles and sleepless nights, following trails as ephemeral as smoke to finally spy him setting up camp in the shadow of a great rock outcropping inside the woods up north. Her horse, a tall, lanky creature, had tossed his head and complained suddenly. Unlike the dead broke gelding he usually was, she’d set her eyes scanning the trees for what set him off. It didn’t help that everything was growing dim. But the huge, bulky form of a grizzly charging through the underbrush wasn’t hard to miss. And if her eyesight wasn’t good enough, the enraged growling of the monster was plenty. The outlaw had startled and moved as if to grab his gun but it was too late. The bear was on him, great maw open and ready to taste human flesh. 

The creature fell dead with a well placed shot from her bolt action. The crack of her gun echoed through the forest. Pinned underneath the weight, her bounty struggled to free himself. Dismounting, she clicked to Buzzard, telling him to follow her. He picked his way through the ferns with care as Nettie slung her rifle over her back. 

“Need some help?” She called out, almost laughing at the helpless man. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw her. 

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.” His voice was a heavy drawl, probably from somewhere in the midlands if she had to guess. Pleasant, gravely and warm. Distinct. Made him easier to track. Underneath the ton of cooling bear flesh, he was making decent headway struggling out from underneath. She had to work fast. 

“Well,” Nettie crouched beside his head, her rope already out in her gloved hands. “see, I got a problem.” The man’s eyes looked up at her, understanding crossing his face. To her surprise, he didn’t look angry. Most people were generally pretty angry when they figured out who she was. From the fire light and remnants of sunlight still slipping through the leaves, she could see light, clever eyes and a strong jaw just dusted with stubble. He was probably even handsome in daylight. 

“And what problem would that be?” He asked as if he didn’t already know.

“I’m going to have to be tying you up before I help you out from under this monster.” Her spare hand patted the hide. Even laid out as it was, crouching next to it she had to reach up to touch its shoulder. Eyeing the size of it, she said a silent thank you to her gun. 

“Suppose I ain’t got much choice, do I?” He laughed. Nettie looked at him, confused. He laughed and held his hands out. Bounties weren’t generally this reasonable. Distrustful, she made sure to tie the rope as tight as she could. It was a good knot, got tighter the more they struggled. She learned it from her brother, after he’d joined the navy. He was dead now, went down with a ship miles and miles from the coast, but the knot had saved her life several times. Nettie imagined her brother would have been happy to know that, he hadn’t been a bad brother as far as brothers go. 

Once the bounty was secured, she looped her lasso around the bear’s neck and tied it to her saddle. Buzzard snorted his complaint but did as she asked threw his shoulders into the saddle harness. The carcass pulled up enough and she was able to drag the bounty out from under it. With soothing words and am offered peppermint, she’d rewarded the horse before loosening the rope off the saddle.

“Glad I let you set up the camp first.” She’d joke as she sat down by the fire and pulled out papers and tobacco to roll. Her bounty shook his head.

“My friends are going to be by soon, you’ll regret meeting them.” He warned her, sitting across the fire from her.

“I doubt it.” She said without looking up from her hands. “The Van der Linde Gang is miles south of here.” Pausing a moment, she slid her tongue along the edge of the paper and sealed it down. It was a decent roll, she was certainly getting better at it. “And from the looks of your provisions, you were planning on being gone a while.” She lit the cigarette over the fire before tucking it between the corner of her lips. “I’d say I have a solid week before they think to come looking for you and by then...” Taking a deep puff, she blew a cloud of smoke into the darkening sky. “You’ll already be hanged.”

“Oh, I ain’t planning on getting hanged.” He sounded so damn sure of himself. She made a point to not let her annoyance with him show. “Even if the bounty hunter is as pretty as you.” Her hand curled around a small rock beside the fire and she chucked it at him. It bounced off his shoulder as he ducked and twisted away from the hurled stone. 

“You’ll keep a civil tongue in your head or I’ll cut it out. Only got to be alive, ain’t got to be whole.” She snarled at him. He raised his bound hands up in surrender, going quiet. It was a surprise, she hadn’t thought he’d be smart enough to shut up. No, that was a dangerous thought, she chided herself. Don’t underestimate a bounty, that’s how you end up dead. He had to be decently clever to have been at this for so long. When she scowled at him, their eyes met and held for a long time. He still didn’t seem angry at her. As darkness closed in, their brief conversation died. 

“What’s your name?” He’d asked, tone low and cautious. 

“Death.” It was a quick, snarky answer that made him give a small huff of a laugh. 

“Well, my name’s Arthur Morgan.”

“I know who the hell you are.” Was he crazy? No, the way he was smirking meant he was enjoying winding her up. Dropping her eyes to her satchel she moved to pull out some bread and a bit of cheese to quiet her complaining stomach. Her attention was still on him, even if she wasn’t looking right at him. She was good at that, looking like she wasn’t paying attention when she was. It was a good skill to have. 

“Just thought might should introduce myself, is all.” 

“Well, I disagree.” She’d snapped before biting into the crust of the bread. He actually chuckled at her. Nettie wasn’t a spiteful woman by nature but part of her was a little glad Arthur Morgan was going to hang. 

He dropped the attempt to make small talk and she was glad of it. The fire burned down and she moved to toss another log, poking at it with a spare stick until it caught fire. Morgan, she hated being on first name basis with a bounty, laid out on his bedroll. His long legs stretched out and his tied hands rested under his head. Not an iota of worry creased his face. Five thousand dollars was a hell of a bounty but was it worth the annoyance?

She stayed up all night, watching as the sky slowly shifted from inky black to cool greys and morning drifted into the trees. Just after the earliest birds started singing their hellos, Morgan shifted and eased himself up. Rubbing the sleep from his face, he glanced at her.

“Don’t you sleep?” He asked, incredulous.

“Not while I’m bringing in a bounty, no.” She cracked her neck and stood, stretching the stiffness out of her limbs. Buzzard raised his head, ready to move on and watching his owner closely. Morgan’s horse, a stocky dun mare, made a noisy warning to the gelding.

“She going to be a problem?” Nettie asked, motioning towards the mare. Morgan stood up, moving to calm the horse with his large hands.

“No, Boadecia’s a good girl. Ain’t you?” He crooned to his horse. She turned her head in and butted at his chest with her muzzle in response to his affection. Nettie nodded and pulled out her rifle, holding it lazily in one hand.

“Good to hear, now pack up your camp. You’ve got a date you just can’t miss.” She moved to lean back against the rock outcropping as Morgan’s face fell into an annoyed scowl. He looked down at his bound hands then back to her. “Best get moving,” her voice was a growl and she leveled the rifle at him to emphasize her point. Morgan grumbled but moved about, packing away his stuff as neatly as he could. 

While she waited, Nettie roller another cigarette. The rifle balance in the crook of her arm as she struck a match against her teeth. Lighting her cigarette, she shook out the match and tossed it into the dead fire. Eyes were on her, she could tell Morgan was watching her as he packed up. He seemed a little angry at her now and that made her smile a bit as she sucked in a lung full of smoke. 

“Where’d you get those scars on your face?” Oh, he was trying to get a rise out of her now. Thought he was clever, didn’t he? Nettie pulled her cigarette out, looking it over while watching him in her peripheral. 

“They were a gift.” With the flick of her finger, ash fell to the ground before she tucked the cigarette back between her lips. Morgan seemed a little less angry, more surprised by her answer. “Hurry up, we ain’t got all damn day.” She wasn’t really in such a hurry, she just wanted to hassle him. 

Once the campsite was packed up, Morgan went to climb up on his horse only for Nettie to stop him with the barrel of her rifle. 

“Not so fast, Cowboy. Gonna be tying your hands behind your back now.” She growled the words. “You can be civil and let me do it, or I can put a bullet in your knee cap.” They waited for a minute, his hands still on the saddle of his horse. 

“What if I change my mind?” He dared her. 

“My rifle shoots faster than you can run.” To emphasize her point, she pulled the hammer back. It’s click seemed to cement Morgan’s decision and he slowly pulled away from his horse. “Sit.” She motioned with her rifle to the ground. Thankfully, he listened. Once he was sitting, Nettie slung her rifle over her shoulder and pulled out her rope and knife. “Arms up.” She commanded from behind him. The tenseness of Morgan’s broad shoulders was telling and Nettie steeled herself. Once she cut through the rope at his wrists she threw the knife, blade first into the dirt several feet away. Roughly jerking Morgan’s arms behind his back, she was ready when he tried to wrench his arms free and shoulder his way free of her grasp. The loop she’d worked into her spare length of rope went around his neck and she jerked it back, tightening as she pulled. Her knee dug into his back as she leaned in close.

“I ain’t stupid, Morgan.” She hissed in his ear. His face was going red as she cut off his air. Docile now, she worked quickly, tying his hands behind his back before loosening the rope around his neck. Morgan took deep, great gasps of air, coughing a bit as he did. 

“Can’t blame a man for trying.” He wheezed. Her hand slipped around his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“I believe I can. I’ll blame a man for just about everything he does.” With a hard shove, she pushed him toward his horse. It was awkward getting him up in the saddle, she had to put a hand square on his ass and she didn’t like the way her stomach fluttered at the contact. It’d been too long since the last time she’d been intimate, she’d have to hunt down a whore somewhere after she turned in this bounty. At least she’d be flush with money, could probably afford a real nice one. 

Boadecia tried to bite her arm when she took the reins, she had to twist out of the way to avoid injury. Grumbling to herself as she tied the reins to Buzzard’s saddle, she kept her attention on the mare. There’d be no selling that one after the hanging, that was a horse that would have to be turned loose. 

“So you just expect me to go quietly?” Morgan started talking again once they were moving out on the road. Nettie shrugged.

“You can run, if you want. I’ll shoot you if you do. I still get the money if you’re dead.” It wasn’t the first time she’s had this conversation with a bounty. Usually they ended up trying to run off on her. She hadn’t lost one yet, though. 

“Don’t see many lady bounty hunters.” He seemed insistent on continuing this conversation. 

“If I have to gag you, I’m gonna punch you while I’m doing it.” She sighed. The mouthy ones always got on her nerves. 

“Your hit a bound man?”

“In a heartbeat.” Came get automatic response. “I’m always a little surprised by how many outlaws seem to think fair play applies to them.” A dove called out and Nettie canted her head to the side at the sound.

“Just not very sportsman like.” Morgan continued on.

“Well, I ain’t a...sportsman.” Her words faded off as her attention was taken by another dove calling from the other side of her. Thoughts clicked into place seconds before an arrow buried itself in her shoulder. A curse was forced out of her as she was pulled off her horse, hitting the ground with a rough thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want, you can follow me on Twitter. I post updates to when I’m writing and other writing related stuff. @LamourScarlett


	2. Chapter 2

The man who’d dragged her from her saddle only lived long enough to regret it. Nettie twisted into his grip and shoved the barrel of her revolver into the fleshy underside of his jaw before pulling the trigger. The sound of her gun going off seemed to set off their attackers and a volley of gunshots set off. Her attacked fell dead to the ground, his blood splattered across her face, and she rushed to Morgan’s horse. To the mare’s credit, she was standing through the hail of bullets rather than running. It allowed Nettie the chance to grab Morgan and pull him out of the line of fire.

“Friends of yours?” He coughed, the air forced out of his lungs as he hit the ground. Nettie scowled but cut his bonds.

“If I had friends I’m sure they’d be better shots.” Morgan shook his hands out and pulled a rifle off his horse’s saddle. His eyes looked to her shoulder and he nodded with his head. She followed his gaze and realized the arrow was still sticking out of her. With an angry snarl, she broke the long shaft off and raced to cover behind a large rock. Morgan found a different spot to hide.

Of all the rotten luck, but she supposed this was the risk of hunting bounties in Skinner territory. Still couldn’t feel the arrow yet. Would definitely be feeling it tonight, if she made it that long. A side glance told her Morgan was still crouched behind his cover, trying desperately to shoot at assailants they couldn’t even see. 

Behind Morgan, just hidden in the bushes, a Skinner crept up. His rifle out and pointed, his attention was fixed on the outlaw firing over the rock. Nettie snarled to herself and turned her gun on the attacker. The gunshot surprised Morgan, making him turn in time to see his would be killer fall to the ground dead. He gave her a smug smile, like he thought this would change her plans for him. She wanted to shout something biting at him, but his face changed dramatically in a split second and he turned his rifle to fire at her. Nettie’s first thought was that he was going to kill her in the middle of the fire fight and run off, but she realized he wasn’t aiming at her. That’s all she managed to get before the world went black and soft.

————————

Pain pulled her awake. Her shoulder was shockingly tender and her head ached just above her left eye. There was a stubborn refusal in her at waking up. She had to drag herself awake, knowing full well whatever she saw when she opened her eyes was gonna make her regret it. 

Dirt was the first thing she saw. Her face was pressed to the ground and dirt was up her nose. A groan of pain left her as she rolled over, her should protesting at the use. Instinctively she reached for the injury, feeling the broken shaft of the arrow still protruding from her. 

Huffing from the effort, Nettie lay on her side assessing the situation. She was in a crude cage, there were remnants of a former occupant crumpled in the corner of the small space. Beside her, in a different cage, Morgan sat with his back to her, head bowed and body still as if asleep against the bars of the cage. She wasn’t bound, but her weapons were gone. Even the knife she kept in her bloomers, which was a humiliating realization. Another pained groan left her as she sat up. Morgan shifted, apparently awake, and turned to look at her.

“You’re alive.” He sounded pleased to say it. Had the outlaw been _worried_ about her? Odd fellow.

“Unfortunately.” Dirt and forest debris cling to her face and stuck into the black braid hanging down her back. Morgan sat back down, facing her this time. Looking around, she could see the Skinner camp not too far off. The firelight cast dancing shadows all around. “How long I been out.” The ache in her head was throbbing now. Reaching up, she felt sticky dried blood against her fingertips.

“Most of the day.” Morgan said. His gun belt was gone too. Both of their heads snapped around at the shuffling sound of a person walking closer. A Skinner, bedraggled and filthy, stepped up to the cages. He held a plate of food in his hand and was grinning wickedly at Nettie. 

“Supper time.” It sounded like it was supposed to be a joke. Nettie watched, unimpressed, as he set the plate down on the ground in front of her and pushed it through a gap in the bars. Nettie looked down at the plate suspiciously. Meat floated in a watery stew, mixed with a few limp vegetables. The Skinner waited, watching her expectantly. Her eyes darted over to Morgan who looked as confused as she was. 

“I’m not hungry.” She was quick to say. Scooting backwards, away from the Skinner, her hands itched for her gun. 

“Aw, we thought you’d like it.” The Skinner kept egging her on. “Made it special for you, horse stew.” He laughed as he said it. A snide, skittering kind of laugh. Nettie’s heart seized for a second. Her eyes scanned the immediate camp, finding a string of horses standing off to the side of the fire. Morgan’s dun mare was tied to the string but Buzzard was nowhere in sight. That got Nettie to pick up the plate, her jaw aching at how hard she ground her teeth together. With an enraged shriek, she threw the plate against the bars of the cage. The Skinner only laughed harder, walking back to his gang. Laughter carried from the campfire through the dead air of evening. 

“Jesus.” Morgan whispered, disbelief in his voice. Blood was rushing in her ears, making it hard to hear but she thought he was offering her some kind of apology. 

“Shut up.” Was her response. Sitting down hard, her back pressed to the bars, she watched the firelight dance around the shadowed forms of her captors. “They’re Skinners.” She hissed at him. “Why do you think they’re feeding me and not you.” She wasn’t asking, she already knew. Morgan sucked in a breath. There was something nice about knowing even an outlaw like him had limits. 

The Skinners drank like they were part fish. Passing bottle after bottle around until Nettie was quite sure they were all blind drunk. When one of them slumped in his seat, falling to the side, she moved. The cages looked flimsy, branches tied together with leather strips. She shook it at first, then looked to the remains in the corner. Morgan was watching her closely as she dug through the worn cloth that had once been clothes. There wasn’t much in the pile. Some bones, mostly picked clean, were scatter among the fabric. A long one caught her eye and she pulled it out, bits of rotten flesh still clinging to it. Maybe it’d been an arm, or a leg, once. 

Keeping a fearful eye on the group of drunk murderers, Nettie stood up and dropped the bone to the ground. Slamming the heel of her boot down as hard as she could, she stomped on the middle of the bone. It cracked, but didn’t break. Frustrated, she swallowed an angry grunt and bent to pick up the bone. Holding it between two hands, she set her foot against it and kicked out. It broke this time, with a loud snap, giving her two very sharp halves of the bone. Not even thinking, she threw one through the bars to Morgan. He caught it, eyes wide as one of the Skinners woke to the sound and came meandering over to check on their captives. Nettie hid the bone piece behind her back, scowling back as the Skinner rattled her cage.

“What you doing over here?” He slurred. “Better be quiet before me or my brothers over there decide to shut you up.” She thought she could keep silent long enough for him to leave, biting her tongue to keep from cursing him. “So ungrateful.” He started rambling. “Even after we made dinner especially for you.” She heard Morgan suck in a breath beside her but she didn’t look. Instead, she spit. A fat glob of saliva landed squarely on the Skinner’s face, sliding down the bridge of his nose. His brows creased and his eyes, hazy with drink, turned cruel. 

The door of the cage was flung open, the Skinner storming into the cage and blocking the exit with his body. Morgan was on his feet, watching but not saying anything. Nettie glanced between the Skinner and Morgan, trying to think around the dark fear starting to creep into her brain. No time for timidness now.

Flinging herself at the Skinner, her hands went for his throat. He was bigger than her, and despite the obvious diseases ravaging his body, still a bit stronger than her. With a rough shove, he flung her back against the cage, the bars shuddering under the force. His hands were on her, ripping at her clothes. One meaty fist was wrapped around her throat and she was reminded of another hand on her throat. The anger in her boiled over and she got a foot up between her and the Skinner, kicking him back with a yell. When he stumbled back against the cage wall, Morgan reached through the bars and held him there. With a jerk of his arm that made his entire body shudder, Morgan buried the bone piece she’d given him into the Skinner’s neck. 

A small flick of his wrist and blood poured out of the Skinner, the dying man gurgling around his own fluids. Morgan held him up for only a second longer before dropping the corpse to the ground. Nettie’s eyes, dark and cold, watched Morgan for a long minute. He stared back, not shying away from her intensity. A horse snorting and calling broke the silence and Nettie stepped over her attacker, out of the cage. 

For a moment she considered leaving Morgan there, but she immediately hated herself for thinking it. Returning her attention to the fresh corpse, she dug through his pockets. Keys jangled as she pulled them out, curling her palm around them to keep them quiet. When she stepped to the front of his cage, Morgan crosses the small space in a single stride. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered to her. She looked up without moving her head, glaring at him from under her brows as if she didn’t really trust his sympathy. 

“Help me kill them and I’ll let you go.” It was a low hiss. Morgan started at the comment then slowly nodded. The lock clicked and fell to the ground as Nettie stepped away. 

The Skinner had had a knife on him, and Nettie was clutching it in her hand as she stalked towards the sleeping drunks. The closest one was the one who’d fallen from his chair. None of his friends had moved to help him, too drunk themselves. Crouching beside him, she shoved her hand over his motion before slicing deep along his throat. 

His eyes went wide as blood seeped out, his arms flailing for a minute before growing weak. She didn’t wait for him to die before moving onto the next one. They were all so drunk it was easy picking them off. Morgan slunk around the fire and took them out from the opposite direction. The two met at the fire, a handful of dead Skinners left on the ground. Nettie was staring at the stew pot hanging over the fire. A snarl returned to her lips and she kicked the pot over, stew splashing across the ground. She tried very hard not to think about what the meat was. 

Morgan watched her. Why hadn’t he run off yet? Retrieving her things, piled beside the fire along with Morgan’s, she began checking her guns. 

“You going to be alright, Miss?” He sounded worried about her. Nettie paused a moment, still looking down at her guns.

“Why ain’t you run off? I told you I’d let you go.” She asked, slinging her rifle over her shoulder before reaching for her gun belt. The Skinners had kindly treated her guns well, she was pleased to see. 

“I’d feel wrong leaving you out here alone, without a horse.” His words made her pause and a sliver of pain slipped through her heart. 

“You know,” she didn’t look at Morgan as she spoke. “That horse was probably the closest thing I had to a friend.” A depressed laugh escaped her. Her attention was drawn to the string of horses. Morgan’s mare stamped a hoof in anger. The other horses didn’t look like much. Upon closer inspection any thought of taking one of the Skinner’s horses was dispelled. They were mangy, diseased creatures. One was laying down and didn’t look like it would be getting back up. 

“I know how hard it can be losing a horse. Let me give you a ride into a town.” Morgan offered, checking his mare over. She snorted at him, seemingly insulted he’d let the Skinners touch her. Nettie almost smirked at him trying to apologize to his horse. 

“Why?” She asked again. Morgan looked over his shoulder at her.

“You saved my life, I at least owe you a ride.” She couldn’t argue with his logic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m trying shorter chapters, see if I might update more frequently.
> 
> Oof, that was more typos than usual. I had to break my general rule and come back to edit just a little. “Write drunk, edit sober”


	3. Chapter 3

Boadecia hadn’t appreciated the extra weight, snorting and pacing a bit when Morgan he helped her up. She’d tried to mount the horse herself but red hot pain had shot through her when she’d put weight on it. He’d looked worried when she’d groaned and held her injured arm against her chest. In response to his worried look she’d called him stupid. Something in her rankled at his concern. His rough hands grabbed her shoulders and she’d fought against his grip. Slapping his hand away, Morgan relented and held his hands back.

“Let me look at your shoulder.” He’d asked.

“Why? You enjoy looking at wounds?” Even grumbling, she did pull her shirt to the side. Morgan’s face crinkled as he frowned, a gloved hand reaching out to trace along the skin. The light touch still hurt.

“That looks nasty already.” He hissed as he looked at it. Nettie craned her neck to get a glance. The wound was bright red, dangerous looking tendrils reaching out under the skin following veins. 

“That’s poison.” Her voice was tired. “Of course they tip their arrows.” What else could go wrong for her? Morgan’s thumb traced a tendril up her neck. 

“We gotta get you to a doctor.” It was an unhelpful statement and she scowled at him. Morgan sighed and grabbed her around her waist, lifting her onto the back Boadicea. There was a tense worry in his back as he mounted in front of her and turned his horse towards the nearest town. 

“You’re quiet back there.” Morgan said. Hell, might as well call him Arthur now.

“I’m not a talkative person under the best circumstances.” Nettie grumbled. She kept on hand on his hip, the other rested on her own thigh. Her shoulder was only hurting worse. They’d left the the arrow head in, not really prepared to stitch her up. It was irritated and with every step of Arthur’s horse the wound sent a jolt of pain through her. 

“Fair enough.” He gave a nod. 

Her bad luck held and she knew the town they rode into. She had hoped to never return to this shithole yet here she was. When Arthur slowed to a trot the pain in her shoulder made her want to gasp in pain. Instead her grip on him tightened. Boadicea slowed to a walk as Arthur scanned the shops for the doctor’s office. She could have told him where it was but she was feeling bad enough to press her face against Arthur’s back and wait. 

“Alright,” He threw his leg over the mare’s neck and slid out of the saddle before turning back to help her down. It grated on her that she needed the help. It grated on her worse that she was starting to like him. How dare he be helpful. 

Inside the doctor’s office, the grey haired doctor had smiled at her. It was an unkind smile. Dr. Richardson had known her a long time, and she had never liked him. Arthur helped her sit down, reaching for the satchel at his side. 

“Well there, Mrs. Swain. Gotten yourself into more trouble again, have we?” The smug bastard adjusted his glasses as he peered at the arrow sticking out of her. “Oh, that looks pretty bad. I’ll have to cut it out.” His touch was nowhere near as gentle as Arthur’s. Though, Nettie suspected, he was probably being rough on purpose. “I’ve got some morphine if you’d like.”

“No.” Her answer was quick and a little more tinged with fear than she liked. Arthur glanced at her, curious, and the doctor only glared. 

“Have it your way then. Into the examination room, please.” He made a sweeping motion with his arm and Arthur moved to help her stand. Dr. Richardson pushed Arthur back, taking her injured arm roughly and pulling her into the room. She got a glimpse of Arthur looking confused and concerned before the doctor closed the door. 

“I’ll have to tell Leroy where you are, of course.” He said as he shuffled to a tray of instruments.

“You’ll do no such thing.” She growled. Dr. Richardson pushed her back into the examine chair, hand pressing too hard against her injured shoulder and making her bite back a yelp. He pulled her shirt off her shoulder, exposing the broken shaft and inflamed skin. His hand flourished a scalpel, cutting in around the buried arrowhead. 

“A husband has a right to know where his wife is.” As he spoke, even and calm, his hand dug the blade deeper into her skin. A cry of pain managed escape her clenched jaw and she shoved the doctor off her. 

“You’re a god damned butcher.” Her words were barely contained rage. Reaching up, she wrenched the arrow out of her, blood seeping down her chest and staining her shirt. 

“That needs to be sewn up. And you need medicine for that infection.” He spoke as if she were a petulant child. 

“I’ll take my chances.” Holding her bleeding shoulder, she shoved past him out of the examination room. Arthur was still waiting, leaning against the wall beside the front door. His face was a mask of confusion as Nettie pushed past him. 

“Mrs. Swain! Mrs. Swain!” The doctor ran out of the room, trying to stop her. Nettie moved out of reach of his grasping hand. Grabbing a small bust of some ancient doctor she didn’t know, she flung it at him. 

“Leave me be!” It was an uncontrolled screech that made the doctor pull up sharp and watch as she stormed out of the office. Arthur helpfully held the door open as she left, ducking out behind her. 

“Not that I’d argue with you but, you still need medical attention.” He followed after her. 

“I’ll be fine.” It was a lie, but he was trailing her like a lost puppy and it bothered her. Stopping suddenly, he stumbled to not bump into her. “You were very helpful, thank you.” He didn’t move, just kept looking at her with those damnable blue eyes. “Goodbye.” 

What few things she had managed to salvage from the Skinners were tied to Arthur’s saddle. She struggled to untie them and avoid Boadicea biting her. There was a frantic motion to her good hand, stained with her own blood. She left streaks of red across the side of Arthur’s saddle. Wrenching her few things free, she slung her bedroll over her shoulder.

“Wait,” He called after her. Nettie paused, looking back at him. “At least take this.” A health tonic was tossed through the air and she scrambled to drop her few things and catch it with one hand. This bounty had not ended up how she thought it would. She was supposed to be miles away from this wretched town, flush with thousands of dollars and paid company. Shoving the tonic into her satchel, she gathered up her few things and continued marching out of town. Couldn’t afford a new horse, not that plus a new saddle. Walking would be the only option for a while. The thought of bringing in the next bounty on foot made her grumble and complain to herself. 

Nearly free of the town, she started to breath a bit easier. She even thought to pull out the tonic Arthur had given her and choke the vile drink down. At least she wouldn’t die, maybe. There was a chill in her that wasn’t quite on level with the weather, she’d need to find a place to deal with the inevitable fever that was already starting. 

“Annette!” A voice she never cared to hear again called her name. Her hand had her gun up and pointed before she turned her head. Leroy was there, sitting on an grey draft, staring down at her like some long lost love from a rediculous romance novel. 

“Leroy.” Her voice held less affection than his. He slid from the horse, towering over her in a lanky sort of way. Judging from the state of his clothes, he hadn’t started working any harder than she remembered. 

“You’ve come back to me, my love!” He held his arms out, a welcoming gesture. Her lip pulled back in snarl, angry at his flippant behavior. Acting as if their last meeting never happened, as if she had simply gotten lost and not run away. Her eyes looked to the draft behind him, a lazy looking creature but it had four hooves and wasn’t sway back. Keeping the gun trained on him, she started moving towards Leroy, trying to skirt around him. He kept pace with her, not getting too close for fear of the gun but working to keep himself in front of her. 

“You stupid, Leroy?” She liked the way anger flashed across his face. “Or am I misremembering the last time we talked?”

“You must be.” He smirked. God, she wanted to shoot that smirk off his face. “We had a little argument, there was no cause to run off.” She stopped walking, the draft behind her now. It was too tall for her to easily mount one handed. Cocking the hammer of her gun made Leroy’s smirk faulted. 

“Oh, was I mistaken then? Did you not try to carve my face off?” 

“Annette, I would never!” He sounded offended. The gun went off before she even realized she’d pulled the trigger. Leroy leapt back with a shout and Nettie cackled. The glee at seeing fear in his face made her warm on the inside, or that could be the fever.

“My mistake then. How about you run home and get dinner started, I’ll be along shortly.” Leroy narrowed his gaze, scowling at her now. 

“You’re coming home with me.” He warned. 

“Oh, certainly, love of my life! I will only be but a few minutes.” Her voice carried, sing song over the air. Leroy moved to step closer to her only for Nettie to pull the hammer back on her gun again. He rethought his position and began backing away.

“Alright, sweetheart. If you aren’t home soon I will have to come looking for you. I do worry so.” The threat was implicit in his words.

“I know, dear.” He began slowly walking away, in the direction she knew led towards the saloon. Hopefully he’d drink himself stupid. With her current luck though, he’d probably get a group of his friends together and hunt her down if she didn’t get out of the state as fast as possible. 

Once he was out of sight, she holstered her gun and pulled the draft to a nearby hitching post. It took a little work, but she managed to leverage herself against the post and scramble up on the broad back of the shire. The beast moved slow but it moved. Hell, she could probably stretch out on its back if she wanted to sleep. The idea made her laugh.

It took all her effort to get the sleepy horse trotting out of town. The grey had a jostling gate better suited to pulling a plow than riding but with as much effort as it took to get on its back, she was never coming down. 

Except the chills that started shaking her body made it hard to steer. Her vision was going blurry and it was hard to focus. Things were looking bad when she pulled the horse off the road, underneath a few trees. Slipping down, she tumbled to the ground and landed on her bad shoulder. A painful reminder that she need to sew it up, or at least clean it. God, what a mess she was in.

There wasn’t enough energy left in her to start a fire but it was a warm night. She rolled out her bedroll and sat on it, leaning back against a fallen log. Huffing from the effort from that simple task, she wondered if she’d be seeing the next morning. At least she wasn’t with Leroy. That thought brought her a little pleasure and small smile climbed onto her face. 

Then It started raining.

She slumped back against the log, shivering as she watched the rain grown heavy around her. There wasn’t the energy left in her to pull herself to her feet and find a better place to sit. If she was a religious woman, maybe she would have prayed. The grey draft, a gelding apparently, seemed unperturbed by the rain. It swished its measly tail back and forth without care. Suddenly it raised its head and called out. Another horse gave a sharp reply. Nettie turned to the call and burst into manic laughter. 

Arthur Morgan was on the road. He’d stopped his mare and was looking at her from under the brim of his hat. After a moment of her laughter he dismount and began walking carefully towards her. Her eyes felt hot, like they’d burn out of her skull, and watery. Tears were spilling down her face, hot compared to the rain. 

“Of course! It’s you!” She waved her arm at him and Arthur stood over her.

“Got a new horse.” He looked the horse over. 

“Stole it.” She muttered, the laughter dying in her throat replaced by sobs that started shaking her shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” He sounded almost fearful of her tears. 

“No.” Nettie sniffed, wiping at her eyes. Even to her own hand, her skin felt hot as sin. “Some crazy hill people ate my horse. My awful ex husband found me again. The stupid bounty I let go won’t stop following me and I’m gonna die of this stupid arrow the crazy hill people shot me with.” Her joints ached and her bones felt as though the would start to crack from the inside out. It was hard to sit up, to keep her eyes open. “I ain’t alright.” Arthur was clearly not ready to deal with the feverish mess in front of him.

“So you just ran off, to do what?” He asked, moving slow as he crouched beside her. 

“I don’t know. Die alone I guess.” Her eyes wouldn’t stop watering. Fat tears were rolling down her cheek and she was shivering despite being wrapped up in her coat. An errant thought crossed her mind and should couldn’t stop herself from relaying it. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve talked to for longer than a few hours in, well, probably years. And you’re just a stupid bounty.”

“I ain’t following you.” His mouth quirked down on one side when she looked up at him. “You stumbled maybe ten feet off a main road outside of the town we were both just in.” 

“Oh, go soak your head.” She moaned. 

“Both our heads are getting soaked.” He reached out, pulling her arm over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you dry.” She slipped like liquid in his arms but that made it easy enough for him to just pick her up entirely and shove her onto his horse. Boadicea complained but seemed to be minding her manners. Arthur pulled the slothful shire over and tied the reins to his saddle. Climbing up behind Nettie, he gave a heavy sigh before shrugging out of his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. 

“You ain’t a lucky sort, are you?” He joked. 

“Caught you, didn’t I?” She snipped back. The horses trotted along as they knew where to go while Arthur’s arm held her in the saddle in front of him. 

“You did, and saved my life three times over.”

“Not that you’re keeping count.” She didn’t like how comfortable it felt talking to him. It felt like she could relax around him and that thought made her panic a little. That kind of thinking would get her killed. Not that she had much choice at the moment. If he wanted to do something mean there wasn’t much chance of her stopping him. 

They turned off they road onto a little dirt path that led to a cabin that looked long abandoned. It was nestled between trees and a creek was rushing by nearby. Arthur led the horses right up to the door, dismounting and patting Nettie’s thigh before stepping into the building. He thumped around inside for a minute and she grew impatient, unsure what he expected her to do. When she went to dismount, her shoulder pulled sharp and she fumbled her grip, slipping backwards out of the saddle. Strong hands caught her as she fell backwards.

“You’re kind of a mess, you know that?” He asked, a hand on her forehead. “You’re also burning up. Didn’t you take that tonic I gave you?”

“I did, in fact. Tasted like piss and ink.” She shoved against him, stumbling over her own feet that felt like they were slogging through molasses. The cabin wasn’t more than a few steps away but it still took her a minute to fall through the door. 

“Jesus Christ, just let me help you.” Arthur snarled, pulling her over his shoulder and carrying her to a dusty bed inside the single room. 

“Well, if you insist.” The panic she felt was overshadowed by the haziness clouding her thoughts. A cloud went up from the disused bed as she fell into it. The mattress sank as Arthur sat on the edge and began pulling her boots off, dropping them beside the bed. 

“Get those wet clothes off, if you can. I’m going to get a fire going.” He turned his back to her as he shuffled towards the stove shoved to one side of the building. Even half addled with fever she realized he was affording her some privacy. Never in her life had she met a bounty this polite. Shrugging the wet coats off, she dropped them to the wooden floor with a wet _thwack_. It took work peeling the layers of clothes off until she was down to her chemise and drawers. She was shivering before she pulled the worn, moth eaten blankets over herself and sank into the old mattress. 

“Why are you being so damn nice?” She asked, her head aching and eyes feeling like they’d burn out of her skull. Arthur laughed as he set a kettle on top of the stove. 

“You saved my life three times in the space of one day, and you’re asking me why I’m getting a fire going?” He was pulling off his own wet clothes, his shirt first, and hanging them up over the stove. Moving to pull a blanket out of a broken cupboard he wrapped it around his waist as he divested himself of his pants and hung them up as well. She probably would have been impressed if she hadn’t felt half dead. “I could ask you the same.” 

“Dead bounty ain’t worth as much.” She mumbled into the blanket. Her eyes fluttered closed only for her to open them again when Arthur poked her through the blankets. 

“Your skivvies too. You’re soaked to the bone and already feverish. Now ain’t the time to be shy.”

“Yes, mother.” She grumbled as she pulled her underthings off while under the blankets. He took them and pinned them over the stove as well. It was too much effort to be embaressed anymore. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met another person as willing to just crawl off and die when they didn’t need to.” His voice was a rumbling vibration. Nettie didn’t respond, she was tired and cold despite the blanket and extra coat. If he wanted to make fun of her she didn’t have the mind to bite back anymore. Arthur’s eyes watched her as her eyes went glassy. His hand found her forehead, pressing against it for a second before frowning. 

“You still cold?” He asked. She nodded her head, not willing to move much else. With a sigh Arthur shoved her to the side of the bed against the wall and crawled under the blanket beside her. The warmth radiating off his bare chest felt like sunshine after a long, cold night. She curled up against him, finally able to stop shivering. Her muscles ached from the constant strain and she felt herself slipping asleep from pure exhaustion.

“My name’s Nettie.” She whispered. A heavy, broad hand reached up to smooth her hair out of her face as she burrowed against his bare skin.

“Nice to meet you, Nettie.” Arthur’s voice rumbled low as she drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Time was more nebulous while she slipped in and out of wakefulness around her fever. At some point she was aware of Arthur cleaning her shoulder off, but couldn’t tell if it hurt or not. Another time, he was arguing her into drinking some bitter drink he kept calling a ‘tea’. She should have felt embarrassed, having to be nursed like a helpless child. But the fever dreams were worse. 

Her mind would conjure images of what she least wanted to see. Leroy, bursting into the room, coming for her like she always knew he would. She could see him, clear as day though the rest of the room was blurry, standing in the door way with a boning knife in his hand. Her things were still piled beside the bed, next to her boots. It took less effort than she imagined to roll over and grab up her gun. He kept approaching, even after she leveled her gun at him. 

“Stay back, Leroy. I’ll shoot you again, you bastard.” She slurred, cocking the hammer back to prove her intent. 

“Nettie.” Leroy spoke with Arthur’s voice. Even half gone, she recognized the deep drawl talking slowly, cautiously. “Nettie, it’s Arthur.” Leroy raised his hands in defense, his face melting into the outlaw. The realization hit her like she’d been slapped and she quickly uncocked the gun and dropped it to her bed. Breathing heavy, she pushed sweaty hair out of her face and curled in on herself. Arthur walked carefully across the small room, as if she were a wounded animal he was trying to sneak up on. She supposed she was. His hand slipped around the gun.

“As impressive as it is that you’re still capable of pulling that fast, I’d rather not be shot.” He said, setting the gun out of reach of the bed. Nettie sighed heavily, hugging her knees to her chest and hiding her face against them. 

“No, don’t suppose you would,” Her voice was muffled against her legs. There was a long pause.

“You seem to be feeling better.” Arthur said. He’d moved around the room while she was hiding her face. When she looked up, he was standing over the stove. “Aware, at least.” A bowl of broth was shoved into her hands and she realized he’d been making her food. She raised the bowl to her lips and swallowed back the broth without using the spoon. Arthur settled back into a chair, watching her. 

“Who’s Leroy?” He asked, eyes cutting into her. A fair question, she figured, considering all the trouble he’d gone to. 

“My husband, I guess.” Her eyes were trained on the bowl in her hands. 

“You guess? Seems like a thing a person should know.” She turned her eyes to look at him, a glare settled on her face like she was used to . 

“Been five years since I last saw him, not sure how far away you gotta run from a person before it don’t count as a marriage anymore.” Her stomach felt fluttery and she didn’t want any more of the broth. Reaching over for the nightstand, she settled the bowl before squirming back under the covers. 

“From my understanding it’s ‘until death do you part’.” Arthur supplied unhelpfully. 

“Well, I tried that already, except some men you gotta kill a couple of times before it takes.” She grumbled. A deep, rumbling laugh nearly shook the walls of the small cabin.

“Oh, I know how that feels.” He seemed particularly amused at her summation. It wasn’t funny to her, the night she’d lodged a bullet in Leroy’s chest was still burned into her mind. “If you’d like, your underthings are dry.” Arthur tossed her chemise and drawers onto the bed. “I’ve got to get some more firewood.” He said with a small cough before he ducked out of the cabin. It took a long minute for her to realize he was being exceedingly polite. The underthings were a small comfort for her modesty, though she didn’t seem to care as much about that as she used to. When Arthur walked back in, arm full of logs for the stove, she was at least clothed. “Rest assured Nettie, Leroy ain’t getting in here.”

“Rest assured, if he and his drunk friends found us, not much you could do against them.” She bit back, she must be feeling better if she was well enough to be angry. Mostly she was angry at Leroy, still. Seemed that was an anger she wouldn’t be able to let go of. Arthur looked like he didn’t believe her, he certainly was sure of himself. Shifting to cross one foot over his knee, he leaned back in the chair. 

“We’ll see about that. You try and get some more rest.” He seemingly lost interest in her, pulling a small journal out of his satchel and taking up a pencil to write in it. Nettie wanted to complain, to pick a fight, but she was too damn tired and Arthur had been too damn helpful. She wasn’t used to people being helpful, she wasn’t entirely sure she cared for it. Made her feel like she didn’t have her feet on solid ground. She slipped into a dream that she couldn’t quite remember but only knew she hated. 

The crash of something solid into wood slammed her awake and she started in her bed to the door of the small cabin flinging open. Arthur had fallen asleep in the chair next to the bed, his journal fell to the ground as a figure stormed in. 

“You rotten bitch,” It wasn’t Leroy, it was Harlan. Harlan had been the best man at their wedding, kissing her on the mouth after he had a few too many drinks in him. And later, with a great too many drinks in him, Leroy had had to pull him off her. He’d laughed even though she had bruises on her arms. Leroy used a thin veneer of manners to keep people fooled but Harlan, Harlan drank too much to manage that. He was probably drunk now. The way his eyes slid slow over to Arthur told her he was. He lunged for the other man, hands at his throat. Nettie scrambled for her gun, only remembering that Arthur had moved it away from her after she tumbled out of the bed reaching for her things. 

The two men slammed to the floor. Harlan was big, and mean, and drunk but Arthur was big himself and a better fighter. Her gun was on a shelf of the cupboard across the room. She scrambled, her feet wanting to go out from under her. Falling against the shelves, her hand grasped for her gun. It felt too heavy in her hand, like it was a solid hunk of lead. The men scuffling fell apart and Harlan’s bleary eyes landed on Nettie. A sick kind of grin spread on his face, he took a step towards her only for Arthur to tackle him to the ground. They rolled against the side of the bed, making Nettie stumble away with a yelp. Harlan rolled on top, his hands around Arthur’s throat and bearing down all his weight. Arthur’s face was turning red as he struggled to free himself. 

She nearly fell, and her head was swimming, but Nettie managed to press the barrel of her gun to Harlan’s head. He froze, eyes glaring up at her. The memory of how his face looked when he’d slipped a hand under her skirts flashed in her mind and she squeezed the trigger. Blood splattered and Harlan fell dead to the floor. Arthur pushed his corpse away and sat up, coughing. 

“That’s four.” Nettie remarked, collapsing down to the ground with a thump. Her legs spread out like an awkwardly dropped doll. It took a long minute for her to regain her breath, her head pounding and injured shoulder throbbing. Arthur gave a groan as he pulled her to her feet and pushed her back into the bed. 

“Yes it is, but you ripped your stitches.” He said, thumb trailing over her shoulder. Blood was starting to seep through her chemise. She looked away, annoyed with herself, with Harlan. Annoyed with a lot of things. “Lay back down and I’ll see to our friend here.” Drained, it was easy to let herself fall back into the old mattress. 

“It’s the horse.” She said up at the ceiling, thinking. “He recognized Leroy’s horse in front of the cabin.” There was no other reason for Harlan to be clever enough to find them, he wasn’t that smart. Not even sober. Arthur paused, his hands around Harlan’s ankles. 

“This wasn’t Leroy?” He asked, surprised. Nettie shook her head against the pillow. 

“No, that was Harlan. Leroy’s lackey.” She sneered. 

“Well, damn. Was kind of hoping it was.” He stood up, dragging Harlan’s corpse out the door. 

“Me too.” Nettie sighed heavy. 

Arthur didn’t say what he had done with Harlan’s corpse and Nettie didn’t care. He did say he’d moved the grey draft behind the house so it couldn’t be easily seen. Then he’d pulled over a bowl of water and cleaned up the blood from where it had painted the floor and wall. 

Laying in bed, she kept her eyes trained out the window as Arthur sewed up her shoulder again. A tree outside the window had a squirrels nest at the top and the small creatures were running up and down the trunk, making the branches shiver. She wished she was a squirrel, or at least anything other than her. The stitches didn’t bother her so much, it was better than when she had to stitch herself up at least. But the way Arthur looked at her when he handed her a cup of bitter tea, it made her curl up on herself. Too familiar and too caring. Too god damned nice.

“My fever’s broke.” She said as she sipped at the foul concoction. Arthur nodded with a sigh. “The poison’s out of my system.”

“It would seem.” He sounded suspicious. Without looking at her fully his eyes watched her.

“My shoulder’s not infected, or at least it’s on the mend now.” She didn’t meet his eyes. 

“What you getting at, Nettie?”

“You ain’t got to keep babysitting me. You can go on now.” The tea was too hot, and the darkened water tasted awful on her tongue. “I even got a horse, so you ain’t got to worry about me none.” Having said her mind, she could look at him again. Arthur was scrutinizing her now, browns knotted in a scowl. 

“Why you in such a hurry to run me off? You’re weak as a kitten, you could hardly lift that gun to fire point blank.” 

“But I did.” She hummed into the cup, steam from the tea curling around her face. “The truth is, I can’t stay here. Not with Leroy looking for me, not with the possibility of a murder charge now. I need to get states away. I need to bring in another bounty so I can buy more supplies. You’re just going to insist I lay up, all from some misguided sense of debt.” Setting the cup down on the nightstand, Nettie turned in the bed so she could set her feet on the floor. “You don’t owe me, Arthur Morgan. And even if you did, I don’t want it. You seen me at my lowest and I’d really like it if I didn’t have to see you ever again.” Arthur was watching her with a painfully understanding look on his face. God, she hated herself for how much she liked it. Tearing her eyes away from him, she found her clothes and started dressing. 

“Just going to run off like that?” He didn’t move to stop her. 

“I’ll take it easy for a few days.” Why did she feel the need to reassure him? To lie? “But Leroy, his daddy was a sheriff. His whole family is law in some way or another, hell, he’s got a cousin who’s a god damned Ranger. If I stay too close, he _will_ find me.” 

“He’s the one who gave you the scars.” There it was, out in the open and he hadn’t even had the decency to say it like an actual question. Nettie sighed as she buttoned up her shirt. 

“It was an anniversary present.” She turned away, looking for her boots, not wanting to see the look of pity on his face. It was always a look of pity and it got old. Curiosity got the better of her, Arthur had been silent for longer than most. When she sat down to tie her laces, she looked over. It wasn’t pity on his face, it was near unbridled rage. 

“You look mad enough to spit.” Her hand stalled on the laces. 

“Ain’t you?” Surprise seemed to knock the anger out of him. 

“Sure, I did shoot him for it.” She went back to tying.

“But you didn’t kill him.” He said, almost teasing. 

“Well,” She sat up, looking around to the single room to place where all her things had been scattered. “I was a worse shot back then. I got better.” Her gun belt buckled around her hips in a move so practiced it was muscle memory now. Arthur moved to help her to the door. At least he wasn’t trying to stop her.

“Listen, I get why you’re running off but just,” A pregnant pause, filled with things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “take care of yourself.” He was begging. 

“Never.” Nettie smirked. 

“My gang’s heading out west soon, if you get into trouble again you could send for me.” The words spilled out of him. 

“God, you’re stupid.” Nettie gave a half laugh. “Telling a bounty hunter where you and your gang are heading?” She stepped out of the cabin, nearly out of breath already. 

“You going to bring us in?” He asked, already knowing the answer. When she didn’t answer a smug grin spread across his face. “Send for Tacitus Kilgore.”

“Fool.” Nettie cursed him as she walked around the cabin to find the old grey. Arthur was still standing in the doorway when she trotted away. She had to stop herself from waving goodbye. 

She saw him again a lot sooner than she expected, especially considering she expected ‘never’.


	5. Chapter 5

It was summer in the desert. She was melting through her clothes and her horse, a a flashy bay and white criollo she had picked up off a bounty was trotting along like he didn’t care. The bounty hadn’t told her his name, on account she shot him before he had a chance but she had taken to calling him Hangman. Seemed fitting considering the fate of his previous owner. The stocky creature had taken a liking to her well enough, almost as loyal to her as old Buzzard had been. Nettie was still sore about the poor horse, even though it had been a good year since then. 

She’s shied away from the mountains for a long time, not even going after a thousand dollar bounty that she had a good lead on. Her purse was full now, though. Hangman’s owner had been worth five hundred dollars dead and she could live off that a good long while. Even still, her attention perked up when, as she was enjoying a decent meal at a saloon, she overheard two men talking about the bounty they had just caught.Things happened, wouldn’t be unheard of for a bounty to swap ownership if the original hunters met with an _accident_. Hell, she’d met more than one bounty that was willing to help her even if it meant they hung. Spite was a powerful ally. 

“We got lucky, Chet.” The skinny hunter whispered to his taller companion. “If the rest of his gang comes to get him we are royally fucked.”

“They won’t.” Chet seemed assured of himself. The third man sitting at the table was staring sullenly at the stained wood. Nettie gave him a once over, her head down and hat tipped low to hide her eyes.

He was Hispanic, Mexican she’d guess. Long hair pulled back in a pony tail but looked a little messy at this point. Didn’t seem like the type to go down without at least a scuffle. He was dressed well, fancy pocket knife hanging from a gold chain on his vest. His hands were below the table but she’d guess they had him tied up tight. She knew a little Spanish, but not enough to hold a conversation. Mostly curse words and insults, though to be fair that was about all she ever heard. 

“Chet, the Van der Linde Gang ain’t one to let a member swing.” The nervous one complained, still in hushed tones. Nettie watched closely as a small smile flashed across the Mexican’s face. At the sound of the gang’s name she cursed inwardly, must have made some outward noise too because the Mexican’s eyes flitted over to her for a second. 

She hadn’t forgotten about Arthur Morgan, five thousand dollar bounty and high up enforcer of the Van der Linde Gang. There’d been at least once she’d considered taking him up on his offer, but she’d been able to talk herself out of it. Leaning up against the post office building, she even knew what town they were closest to, where to send a letter, care of Tacitus Kilgore. The cigarette gave her a little space to think and she’d reconsidered. He hadn’t meant it, and if he had he certainly didn’t still mean it. Instead, she’d pulled a bounty poster down and found the ugly man on the paper in a fortnight. 

Yet here was a Van der Linde member, probably worth a thousand at least if he was anybody, sitting the next table over. Would Arthur come to get him himself? The way she felt excited at the idea made her scowl to herself. Without thinking, her feet moved. 

The two bounty hunters looked surprised but the Van der Linde didn’t. If she was going to start it, the least she could do would be to make an effort. So Nettie put on her best smile even if, she knew, it didn’t do much for her. Her shirt was open a button too many, because of the heat, and she wasn’t unfortunately endowed so it was easy enough to distract the hunters a little with the right posture. 

“You two sound like you’ve got yourselves into a pickle.” She lounged back in the chair, resting one elbow on the corner of the slatback. Had to play the part all the way. Throwing her feet up onto the table, she was the picture of self assured nonchalant. The Van der Linde had a nice smile, was the entire gang that damn handsome? Did they only take on handsome men? He was clever to boot, she could tell by the way his eyes watched her face and not her chest like the hunters. “Should know better than to be picking up a Van der Linde, just two small time Bounty Hunters such as the likes of you.” With practiced ease, she pulled out a paper and began rolling a cigarette as she spoke. “I’ve been trailing Arthur Morgan for weeks, my friends.” The Van der Linde’s brows shot up at the name drop. “They’re nearby, and I’m sure pissed as hell now.” The two hunters finally seemed to register what she was saying. Smooth as silk, Nettie pulled out a match and stuck it against the mangled skin along her jaw to light it. The first hit of nicotine from the cigarette did wonders for her nerves. 

“You lie.” Chet hissed, but his eyes scanned the saloon as if Arthur would suddenly appear at that very second. Nettie shrugged, her eyes finally looking the two men over. 

“I was considering it a professional courtesy. You two have clearly bitten off more than you can chew. You wanna wind up in a pine box, be my guest.” She blew a cloud of smoke at the nervous hunter, making him cough and turn his head.

“Chet...” The skinny one said, his voice wavering. Nettie smirked to herself, turning her attention back to her cigarette. 

“You don’t think I got this pretty without learning a thing or two, do you?” She smirked, Chet’s eyes trailing along her jaw. “Now, you two look like you’re honest enough boys.” Finally, she turned her full attention to the Van der Linde. “I bet, if they just walked away from this, you’d be kind enough to forget their faces. Wouldn’t you?” She stuck the cigarette between her lips. “Excepting, of course, they forget yours.”

“Oh, I think I could manage that. I’m very bad at faces.” The Van der Linde grinned, and Nettie kept her eye roll to herself. At least clever enough to play along. She seriously doubted a Van der Linde would forget a face. They weren’t known for playing well with others. The nervous fellow picked at the sleeve of his friend and Chet groaned in frustration. 

“Fine! Ain’t worth it if we have to be watching our backs constantly.” He slammed back the rest of his drink, the table rattling with how hard he set it down. Standing up, he scowled at Nettie. “I hope they shoot you.”

“I’m sure they shall.” She called after him as he stormed out of the saloon, his nervous partner following close behind. The Van der Linde burst into laughter, grinding from ear to ear. 

“Oh, _cariño_, you saved my hide. Why are you helping me?” There wasn’t a bit of suspicion in his voice, only mirth and maybe a too familiar tone.

“I guess,” why did she help him? “I guess I’m kind of friends with Arthur.” Well, that sounded wrong on her tongue. 

“Arthur?” He didn’t sound like he quite believed it. “Well shit, now you’re friends with me too. Going to untie me?” He finally pulled his hands above the table, showing rope tied so tight his hands had gone red. Setting her feet down on the floor, she pulled out her knife and sliced him free. 

“What’s your name, _amigo_?”

“Javier.” He said as he rubbed feeling back into his hands. Nettie nodded her head. Javier Escuella, of course. She vaguely heard of him, hadn’t realized he was running with the Van der Lindes, though. Must be slipping. 

“So, Mr. Escuella, how those idiots catch you?” Reaching across the table, she pulled the glass the nervous hunter had left behind and finished it off. No use wasting good liquor.

“Ah, no honor with those two. Caught me with my pants down.” Did he ever stop grinning? She supposed, if she’d been saved at the last minute like he just had, she’d be grinning too. 

‘I’ve done that one before.” And easy enough trap, if the bounty was drunk enough. 

“So you _are_ a bounty hunter?” He raised a hand, motioning to the bartender for his own drink. Nettie nodded. A serving girl came over with a drink and a bottle for the two of them. She refilled her own glass after the girl had filled Javier’s, serving girls never actually served her if there was someone else to look at. Rolling her eyes as Javier flirted with the girl, she sipped at the whiskey.

“I am.” He tensed as she confirmed his suspicion. The serving girl flounced off to giggle at someone else when he stopped looking at her. 

“So, how are you friends with Arthur, then?” He asked, guarded. She was asking herself the same question. 

“You know, I don’t rightly know. Can’t quite figure it myself. Guess you could ask him, he might know.” That, somehow, was enough for him and Javier relaxed. “I don’t actually know where your gang is, I just happened to over hear them.”

“Well, you weren’t too far off. Did you want to come back with me? Say hi to Arthur?” Yes, damn it, she did. 

“No. Might be friends with him, but still got my work.”

“Making money off of people’s lives.” Javier’s tone was biting. So he had a streak of stubborn principles, did he?

“No more than you, Javi. Just, the way I do it means I don’t have the law breathing down my neck.” It was Arthur that had made her realize that. Not as if he’d said anything, but sitting hold up in a hotel room, riding out the tail end of the infection in her shoulder, she’d had time to think. Think about the difference, exactly, between her and Arthur. Safe to say there wasn’t much of one, not when she really got down to it. Javier shook his head, standing up.

“Well, I’m not hanging around here any longer than I have to.” Nettie snorted at his unintended pun, flicking ash on the floor. His eyes scrunched up in confusion until she saw the understanding grow on his face. “It’s not funny.”

“Says you.” She called after him. His backside, pleasant as it was, vanished out the saloon door into the sweltering night. Leaving her alone again, but this time with a nice bottle of liquor. Had he intended to order it and then not drink it? Holding the bottle up, she considered it a gift of thanks and poured another shot for herself.

Nettie hadn’t intended to drink the entire bottle by herself, in one sitting, but she did. When it finally tipped over, empty, and she stumbled out of the saloon, the grey light of dawn was bleeding into the sky. Her room back at the hotel was calling her and she was tripping over her feet to get back to it. 

Her room was on the second floor, and she could avoid any disapproving looks by going up the back stairs. As she started down the back alley to the stairs, a hand sank into her hair and jerked her head back. A knife was pressed to her throat but she was too drunk to tell if cut her or not. She froze as best she could.

“You’re a god damned liar. The Van der Linde Gang ain’t around here.” Chet hissed, furious, in her ear. “That was a thousand dollar bounty you cost me. And you didn’t even turn him in,” There was disgust in his voice. “So I’m betting you’re in on this. Some whore of his, bet you got a bounty on your head too.”

“Boy, are you barking up the wrong tree.” She started laughing, couldn’t help herself. Chet grabbed her arm painfully tight and began marching her to the sheriff’s office beside the jail.

“Yeah? The sheriff calls your name in, he not going to find anything?” That thought got through her whiskey addled mind. If the sheriff called her name in, Leroy would find her. He might have even put out a wanted person on her. The idea of it made her start to struggle but Chet’s hand was too much to shake off. He laughed like he’d won as she fought him. 

Never one to go along easily, Nettie’s hand found the knife at her hip and slipped it free of its sheath. With a quick motion, she rammed the knife up in an arc, into Chet’s neck. He let go of her, stumbling a step back. Her hand still holding onto the knife handle, when he fell down she was dragged with him. It took every bit of balance she had left in her to not fall. Instead she ended up straddling his dead body, bent double and staring dumbly at his eyes as they went blank.

“Nettie?” A familiar voice caught her attention from behind and she looked over her shoulder. Arthur was standing at the entrance of the alley looking more confused than concerned. Jerking the knife free and tripping away from the dead body, she tried to wipe the blade clean. 

“Hey,” What was he doing here? “I met Javier.” She said, as if there wasn’t a corpse a foot away from her. 

“I know, he told me.” Arthur was walking towards her, cautiously with his hands up. “Told me you talked his way out of a hanging.”

“Suppose I did, now that you mention it.” It struck her as funny, a laugh spilling out of her. After wiping the blade off on her pant leg and tucking it back into its sheath, she rubbed at her neck. A cursory touch led her to believe Chet had not nicked her while he held her. Arthur was focusing mostly on the corpse behind him. 

“Having a rough morning?” He kicked the boot of Chet with his toe. 

“Probably rougher once I sober up.” She grinned at him, feeling stupid enough to just enjoy herself a little. “What you doing here anyways?” Her room wasn’t far, she could make it if she didn’t keep getting stopped. 

“Javier said you were here.” He explained. 

“So you rode out from wherever y’all are holed up to come say hello to me?” Nettie scoffed. “Even drunk I’m not that stupid.” 

“Wanted to see how you’d fared since I saw you last.” That was a lie, even drunk she could tell. 

“I have fared no worse or better than before I met you.” An idea occurred to her, something dumb born out of the drink. “Want to help me with a bounty?” Arthur started at the sudden question. 

“Now?” 

“No, idiot.” She scoffed at him. “Once I’m sober, there’s a couple of O’Driscolls not far off. I don’t usually go after two at once but if you were with me...” Arthur was nodding but still seemed reluctant. “I’ll give you twenty percent of the cut.”

“Fifty!” He snorted, indignant but grinning. 

“I tracked them down myself! Thirty five, not a penny more.” She stuck out her hand, swaying on her feet. 

“How are you this drunk and still able to negotiate?” He laughed, taking her hand and shaking it. 

“Be blind drunk for a year or two and you learn how to manage.” The grin on her face felt awkward, she wasn’t used to it. She was drunk enough to not mind how much she was actually looking forward to working with Arthur. Or to mind when he stooped to sling her arm over his shoulder. 

“Which way’s your room?” He asked with a nod of his head. She pointed up the stairs on the side of the hotel, laughing when he groaned. “You don’t do nothing the easy way, do you?”

“Considering the easy way is usually ‘lay down and die’, not normally, no.” Her feet had a hard time finding the ground but they managed to rough their way up the stairs. 

“Oh, I don’t know, you seemed pretty willing to do just that last time I saw you.” Using his boot, Arthur kicked open the door to the hotel, dragging Nettie along with him. 

“That was different. I was having a bad day.” She argued as she pointed out her room, slapping the door with her hand. 

“This is a good day?” Arthur leaned her up against the wall beside the door with a heaving breath and Nettie leaned her head back against the flowery wall paper. 

“You don’t see an arrow sticking out of me do?” She laughed, digging a hand into her pocket to find the key. “Good day for your friend, Javi, ain’t it?” The smirk that settled on her face wouldn’t leave, she couldn’t peel it off if she tried. Arthur reached out, taking the key from her hand and unlocking the door. 

“Do you make it a habit to rescue outlaws in trouble?” He asked, stuffing the key back into her pocket. After a moment of consideration, he bent and pulled her over his shoulder. She giggled as the world tumbled around her and Arthur planted a careful hand on her back to steady her. His backside was right in front of her and she shamelessly enjoyed the view. 

“Not generally, no.” He dumped her into the bed, the brass creaking under the sudden strain. “Are all the Van der Linde as handsome as you two? Does that Dutch fellow only pick out handsome men for his gang on purpose?” Arthur gave a sound like he’d been punched in the gut and it made her laugh nonsensically. 

“I wouldn’t know.” He said, the bed sagging when he sat on the edge and pulled off her boots. The mattress was soft and inviting, pulling her to roll over and hug a pillow against her head. Pillows were such a luxury, only to be had in nice hotels. She was glad she had enough money for a pillow. “You going to be up to bounty hunting?”

“I’ll meet you at lunchtime, at the saloon.” She mumbled into the pillow. “If I ain’t there just come roust me out of bed.” It sounded like he chuckled as he walked out of the room, locking it behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, I haven’t died! Simply slower than usual. Sat on this chapter for a bit, hope it was worth the wait!

Nettie was sitting at a table in a dark corner of the saloon when Arthur walked in. She wasn’t happy, her head throbbing in a stubborn ache and she had only herself to blame. With her hat pulled down low, it was hard to tell if she was even awake. A self rolled cigarette smoked from her fingers as her hand rest on the table in front of her. She didn’t move when Arthur sat down across from her.

“You alive?” He asked, adjusting his seat.

“Unfortunately.” Her voice was a croak and only then did she move, slowly, to raise her cigarette to her lips. 

“You sure you wanna do this now?” Arthur didn’t seem too impressed with her. Nettie flicked ash away and finally pushed her hat up. Her ice blue eyes met Arthur’s warm green.

“They ain’t going to hang around and wait for us.” She growled low, her opinion of his intelligence dropping. “‘Sides, thought Van der Linde and O’Driscolls were mortal enemies. Thought I’d have to run to keep up with you.” She took another drag, letting the smoke drift upwards.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to kill them, just wondering how capable you are. Don’t want a bullet in my back because you’re too hungover.” There wasn’t venom in his tone, not exactly. 

“Oh I brought in worse feeling worse. With your gun too this should be a piece of cake.” A half smile almost made it onto her face. Her joints ached when she stood up, making her take a second to stretch herself out. Arthur followed her as she walked out of the bar, tossing a coin to the bartender as she passed him to close her tab. 

Outside the bar, Hangman was waiting patiently for her. The moody little mare Nettie sort of remembered was standing next to him looking a tad more affectionate than seemed possible. Boadicea, if she had the name right, was placidly letting Hangman groom her.

“You go through horses awful fast.” Arthur remarked as he hauled himself up into the saddle. She glared at him as she mounted and pulled Hangman away from the hitching post. 

“Had Buzzard for four years before he got _eaten_. Couldn’t keep that nag of Leroy’s. It’d have been recognized and besides that worthless bag of hooves couldn’t go faster than a trot if the fires of hell were after it.“ She patted Hangman’s neck, twineing the coarse mane around her fingers a bit before nudging him on.

“Where’d you get this one?” He followed behind. 

“Former bounty kindly gifted him to me.” There was that smirk again. Arthur gave a soft laugh. 

“Very kind, indeed.”

“Aw, I’m a better rider than that shithead ever was, ain’t I, Hangman?” Nettie cooed to the horse, making him flick an ear back to listen to her and huff. 

Arthur followed Nettie as she rode at a gentle lope across the dirt. The dry open country was rolling softly, slipping up into impossibly tall buttes in the distance. Scrub, trying desperately to cling to a trace of green, dotted the landscape in anemic clusters. Hangman picked his steps carefully along when Nettie turned off the road, hooves clicking against a couple loose stones. The two riders slowed to a walk, creeping along the edge of a rise that overlooked a forlorn farm.

If it wasn’t for the light in the window, showing now as the sun dipped low on the horizon, it would have looked abandoned. The barn was dilapidated, listing to the side and the last rays of sunset shining through the gaps left by missing boards. No animals were in the pens, except for two horses saddled by the front door. 

“They ain’t exactly trying to hide their presence.” Arthur said as they pulled to a stop. Nettie reached into her satchel, producing binoculars and looking through them.

“Naw, this far out they think they’re pretty set.” She handed the binoculars to Arthur and he looked down at the shack. Through the window, he could see two shapes moving about in front of the light source. 

“So, how much money we talking, exactly?” He asked before returning the binoculars. 

“Five hundred a piece, thousand total if we bring them in alive.” Nettie said. Arthur nodded, waiting as she took a breath and set herself. “I’m going to go in first, alright? You hang back and when one of them makes a run for it, or opens fire, you come in.” 

“You normally do this alone?” He asked as she turned her horse to head down the rise. 

“Well, if I’m by myself I’d bar the door and just toss a fire bottle in the window. Bring their corpses in. But you get less if they’re dead.” She winked at him, heading away through the scrub while Arthur watched. 

Hangman trotted quick to the shack and Nettie dismounted and slapped his flank. The horse took off running like he knew what was about to happen. She pulled her hair out of the braid she kept it in, arranging it so it’d fall over the side of her face with the scar. For a moment she fiddled with her clothes, adjusting herself to look at least a little vulnerable before calling out to the house and putting on an act. 

The door opened, light spilling out over her and Nettie stumbled to the ground. From the rise, Arthur couldn’t hear what was being said but it was clear she was selling it well. A man came out from the house in a hurry to help her inside. She limped along beside him, the door cutting off the light as it closed behind them. Arthur fidgeted on the rise, not liking how she just threw herself into trouble like that. 

He trotted down towards the shack, staying in the long shadows of a few cacti as he went. A crash came from inside and he was spurring his horse into a run. A man crawled out the side window and began running. Arthur chased him down, his lasso grabbing him by the foot and sending the O’Driscoll slamming into the ground with a grunt. Arthur hit the ground with both feet and had the other outlaw hogtied and on his horse in a second. As he rode back to the shack, Nettie kicked the door open and stepped down from the porch with a squirming man tied and over her shoulder. 

She heft the man and whistled. Hangman was running back to her with a whinny, prancing a bit before holding still and letting Nettie sling the bounty across his hindquarters. All grins now, she mounted up and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket of her shirt. 

“This kind fellows gave me a nice little present.” She held the pack out to Arthur who took one gladly. 

“That went better than I thought it would.” He remarked as they began walking back towards the road. Nettie shrugged as she cupped the end of her cigarette and lit it with a match. Holding the lit cigarette out to Arthur, he reached over and lit his from the tip of hers. With a nod of thanks, he sucked in a lungful of smoke. 

“I know you ain’t’ got much examples of it, but generally I’m pretty good at what I do.” She said, blowing smoke up into the darkening night sky. Out of reach of the sun, the temperature was dropping and was, momentarily, bearable. 

Once they were back on the road, she let Hangman have his head and used both hands to braid her hair back up. Deft fingers worked to coil the braid up under her hat before she picked up the reins again. The O’Driscoll behind her had clearly been knocked out before being tied up, a livid bruise on his temple showing even in the dim light of the rising moon. 

“You’re kind of rough with your bounties.” Arthur remarked. Nettie twisted in her saddle, looking at the man tied to the back of her horse. Reaching back, she dug fingers into his hair and pulled his limp head up.

“He’s still alive. See? He’s breathing.” She said before letting his head drop. “They got size on me, I gotta have meanness on them.”

“Fair enough.” The O’Driscoll behind him was squirming like he’d be able to free himself from Arthur’s knots. “How’s that, O’Driscoll? I didn’t think there was anyone meaner than you lot.” He joked.

“That fucking whore is gonna get what’s coming to her!” He snarled. Nettie rolled her eyes and Arthur cocked his arm back, smacking the O’Driscoll in the face. 

“They’re quieter unconscious too.” She added. Even with her fading headache needling her, it was probably the most pleasant bounty she’d had in a while. Every time the O’Driscoll spouted off some angry venom, always directed at her, he’d cock back that mallet of a fist and catch the man in the face good. Usually she just ignored the insults, it came with part of the job, but something inside her felt nice to see someone else hitting a bounty on her behalf. 

By the time they reached the nearby town’s jail, her bounty was starting to stir and Arthur’s was sporting two black eyes and a broken nose. Pulling the O’Driscoll over her shoulder, she hefted him up the few steps into the brick building with Arthur following behind. 

“Two O’Driscolls for the judge!” She called out, waking the deputy left to watch the jail. The young man, couldn’t have been more than twenty, jumped to his feet and hurried to open a cell for the two men. Nettie dumped hers on the single cot while Arthur simply slung his to the floor and slammed the door shut. At the desk, Nettie dug a wanted poster out of her satchel and handed it to the deputy. He scrutinized the portraits, looking to the two men in the cell. 

“Well, they look a bit more bruised than their pictures.” He said, mostly joking, as he reached into the top drawer of his desk. Tossing a billfold towards her, he stuffed the paper into the drawer. “Didn’t know women could bounty hunt.” Nettie snatched the money up and counted it in front of him while he frowned at her. 

“Yeah, the feminine mystique is varied and surprising.” She said, bored and annoyed.

“Hey! Hey, deputy!” The more conscious O’Driscoll hissed from his cell. “I know who that man is. Listen, that man is Arthur Morgan!” He squirmed to sit up with his hands still bound behind his back. “That’s Arthur Morgan.” His voice raised in pitch and Nettie raised an eyebrow as she looked over at him. “He’s a five thousand dollar bounty!” The deputy looked to the cell then cut his eyes to Arthur. 

“You’re Arthur Morgan?” He sounded like he’d been betrayed, his hand slipping to the gun at his hip. Nettie’s gun being cocked made the deputy freeze in place. She had the barrel an inch from the side of the young man’s head.

“That going to be a problem?” She asked. It took a solid minute for the young deputy to raise his hands above his head. “You want two O’Driscolls to send to the judge, or do you want your mother to owe the undertaker?” Her jaw set and a glare in her eyes made even Arthur take a step back. “This here,” She waved a hand towards Arthur, “is my poor brother Tacitus. And these scoundrels will say anything to save their necks from the noose.” Slowly, she uncocked her gun and replaced it in its holster. “Best learn to not listen to a couple of dead men, they’re liable to lie.” Once the gun was put away, the deputy lowered his arms. He watched fearfully as Nettie stuffed the billfold into her satchel and headed out the door. Arthur went to follow her out only for her to pause at the door frame. 

“Of course, if he was Arthur Morgan,” Her eyes were locked on the deputy. “I’d be awful careful about trying to draw on him. Morgan’s supposed to be pretty damn good.” The threat was there, and the deputy gave a slow nod before Nettie dropped her glare and continued out of the building. Outside, she pulled out the billfold and counted out a handfull of paper. Grabbing up Arthur’s hand, she slammed the money down into his palm.

“Here, your cut. Thirty five percent of a thousand.” With a tired sigh, she climbed up on Hangman. Arthur tucked the money away, not counting it. 

“What you doing next?” He asked, watching her from the ground.

“Getting out of town. This place is burned for a while.” She was annoyed, as hot as it was, it was a decent area to work and she had learned the land. 

“Sorry.” Arthur grumbled, dipping his hat and hiding his eyes. Nettie shook her head.

“Not your fault. O’Driscoll was bound to squeal.” She could kick herself for not gagging the miscreants. Of course he would rat Arthur out. 

“You didn’t have to do that, back there.” He was mounting his horse as he spoke. Both knew they had to get out before the deputy found his balls. 

“And then what? You shoot a deputy in the jail? In the middle of town? Not that I’m not a fan of murder but, Jesus, that’s dumb.” She swore and kicked Hangman into a trot out of town. Arthur tagged along, keeping his head down as she harangued him. 

“I could have talked myself out of it. Now they’re going to think you’re an accomplice.” As he said it, Nettie gave a heavy laugh.

“Hell, ain’t that the way? I hire you to help me, I do all the hard work and _you’re_ the leader. Men is shit, Arthur.” She was joking now, her eyes cutting to him as they followed the dirt trail out of town. “No offense.”

“None taken, I can’t disagree.” He looked out over the desert, the moonlight casting a soft glow to the night. “Come back to our hideout tonight. It’s my fault you lost your hunting ground, we’ll get you on a train out of here tomorrow. I at least owe you a drink.” She slowed Hangman down to a stop as she thought about it for a moment. 

“You’re right, you do owe me a drink.” Arthur grinned and motioned off the road with a nod of his head. “Sure you Van der Lindes want a bounty hunter drinking with you?”

“Oh, if any of them try and lie that they ain’t never done a little bounty work themselves just shoot them.” He said, half laughing before he turned Boadicea off the trail and began trotting away from civilization. 

Close to a train tresses, planted squarely in a dip of hills, a small ranch sprawled in the night. It looked ill used, but there were light and campfires glowing. A string of horses shuffled to one side of the camp and as they rode closer, she could see people milling around. Nervousness crept into her spine as they neared. These were people she’d normally be going after, why wasn’t she? Any bounty hunter worth their salt would cut off their left arm to know where the Van der Linde Gang was holding up. But she hadn’t turned in Arthur, or Javier for that matter. Seemed a fool notion to start now.

“Who goes there?” A raspy voice called out. Nettie’s eyes focused on a figure half hidden behind a cactus. 

“It’s Arthur, dumbass.” Arthur shouted as they rode by, making Nettie chuckle to herself. The lookout’s eyes followed her as they rode into camp. Boadicea gave a whinny of greeting as Arthur dismounting. A few other horses raised their heads and responded, happy to see their herd mate. Hangman kept his ears swiveling as Nettie dismounted and hitched him to the string with the others. He was a polite horse, never started a fight if he wasn’t cornered so she felt confident leaving him with the new herd. Arthur gave a wave of his hand and she trailed behind him. 

Conversation died as they approached, eyes turning to stare down the newcomer and Nettie bristled at the glares. This was a mistake. Arthur was an idiot to invite her and she was an even bigger idiot to accept. Her steps faltered, stalling as she tried to decide whether she should just leave now. Suddenly arms wrapped around her in a bear hug from the side.

“_Hermosa_! Good to see you again!” Javier was kind of drunk and laughing in her ear and clearly happy to see her again.

“_Llámame hermosa otra vez y te apuñalaré._” Nettie gasped out, Javier squeezing her tight enough to make it hard to breathe. He laughed hard, surprised and set her down.

“_¿Hablas español?_”

“_Mal._” She took a second to regain her balance after the assault and Javier’s hand slipped behind her back, pulling her towards a large campfire and the group surrounding it. 

“Hey! Everyone! This is the woman I was telling you about!” A bottle of liquor was shoved into her hand and Nettie was taking a deep draw off it before thinking. If she ever needed the extra courage it was right now. Walking into the middle of the Van der Linde Gang and sitting down next to Arthur fucking Morgan. How much worse could the situation get?

“Ah! The one who saved your hide?” A voice called out, clear and fine. Nettie’s eyes landed on an older man, grey in the hair, sitting at the fire. She recognized Hosea Matthews from his bounty poster. He didn’t strike her as dangerous, more a charlatan and con man than anything else, he wasn’t a violent man. He was, however, top of the food chain in the gang, that much she knew. She took another pull off the bottle. “Tell me, my dear, how did you manage to talk those men into letting him go?” The silence around her meant everyone was waiting for an answer. Her eyes shifted from side to side, Arthur sitting down next to her as she stalled. 

“I may have implied that I personally knew all of you and that you were all coming to save him right that minute.” Hosea laughed at her answer. 

“And that worked?” He asked, mirthful. 

“They seemed particularly stupid.” If she didn’t keep an eye on her liquor tonight she was going to end up feeling putrid the next morning. Setting the bottle by her foot, she looked around the fire. Javier took a seat on the ground, beside her right leg, and pulled a guitar into his lap. Beside Hosea, across the fire, Bill Williamson sat drinking. His poster said he was worth a thousand dollars. Everything she heard about said he was meaner than a pit viper and dumber than a bag of hair. She kept that opinion to herself. 

“I bet they did!” Another voice called from behind the group and Nettie’s head swiveled around to see none other than Dutch Van der Linde standing in the opening of a tent, arms crossed and smiling at her. “We owe you, Miss, for helping out poor Javier here. Fool like that, getting himself caught.”

“Happens to the best of them.” She managed to say without stammering. They were welcoming her into the fold and using it as an excuse to drink more. An Irishman she didn’t recognize introduce himself as Sean McGuire and nearly toppled over himself when his head turned to watch a buxom blonde walk across camp. There were more women in the gang than she realized, there was even a small child running around. It was hard to maintain an even exterior when she saw a young boy, couldn’t have been more than three or four, being chased by an exhausted looking woman. This was not a normal gang, Nettie was realizing. 

Javier had started strumming quietly, something pretty and unobtrusive as a barrel chested man with long black hair knotted at his neck sat beside Arthur. It was like this gang could just bleed out of the shadows. There were more people here than what she had heard. Lord help the fool that tried to walk into the middle of the Van der Linde Gang. 

They were a cheerful bunch, drinks were flowing and Sean kept encouraging her to drink. She’d taken a few fake swigs to placate him, trying to keep her senses for the while. The tempo of the music Javier played picked up, and suddenly everyone was singing a bawdy song and laughing. It felt nice, even if she as borrowing someone else’s family. After a few more actual swigs of her drink, she was joining in with at least a couple of the songs. 

Another few swigs and she was laughing at Sean’s jokes even when everyone else was groaning. Part of her hated herself for fitting in so easily with a bunch of outlaws, but who was she to complain? Her head swimming and knowing she’d regret it but not caring anymore, she stumbled to her feet and headed towards a crate of beer bottles. Javier held a hand out to help her steady herself as she stood up. For a moment, his thumb rubbed against her wrist in a too familiar way that she enjoyed a little too much. 

The crate was on a table beside Dutch’s tent. He and Arthur were speaking to each other. It appeared a pleasant conversation, both men’s body posture was relaxed and Nettie’s eyes curved over Arthur’s backside as she reached for a bottle. She couldn’t help but notice how Dutch glanced over at her and smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. 

“You two talking about me?” She slurred, stumbling over to stand with them. Arthur reached out, steadying her with a hand on her arm. 

“As a matter of fact, yes we were, Miss Bounty Hunter.” Dutch turned to grin at her, cigar in hand. 

“Aw, you’re such a snitch, Arthur.” Nettie laughed, Dutch joining in a carefree kind of chuckle. Arthur’s mouth twitched up in the corner, not quite laughing at her but wanting to. 

“I’d ask if you were going to turn us in, but the state you’re in, I'd say it’s unlikely.” Dutch tucked the cigar between his lips, his eyes raking over he as she leaned against the pole of the tent. 

“I couldn’t turn you in,” she took a deep pull off her new bottle of beer, her eyes darted over to Arthur. “hell, Arthurs the closest thing I got to a friend since my horse got eaten.” Dutch’s brows shot up at the statement, obviously wanting to ask about her horse but kept his mouth shut. “I’d probably fight anyone who’d actually take you in.”

“God help them that you set your sights on.” Arthur chuckled good naturedly. His attention turned to the gang leader, adjusting his stance and crossing his arms. “What do you think, Dutch? She did help Javier.”

“What are you two hens going on about?” She asked, her eyes darting between the two men. They were discussing something important but her brain slipped around it, too drunk to figure it out. Dutch took a deep breath like he was about to launch into a speech. 

“What do you say? Join the gang, Nettie. We could use a clever girl like yourself.” He reached out, clapping a hand on her shoulder and nearly knocking the unbalance girl off her feet. 

“Are you mad?” She considered the offer, ashamed to admit it wasn’t the worst one she’d ever gotten. 

“Not at all, Miss!” His grin was infectious as he looked between her and Arthur. “Arthur mentioned he might be at fault for you losing a good hunting ground and I couldn’t bare the thought of all those skills of yours going to waste.” 

“You,” Nettie pointed with the hand she held the bottle with. “Have a devil’s tongue.” Dutch waited in silence as she gathered her thoughts, slowed by heavy drinking. “Rather you be on my side than against me.” The turn of phrase made her brain stall and she looked away from the two men to the group laughing raucously around the fire. “Ain’t had anybody on my side in years.” 

“Well, Miss Nettie. How about we change that?” Dutch knew he had her. She could see the self assurance in his eyes and wondered if it was really a bad thing. Without waiting for her to respond, his hand still clasping her shoulder, Dutch guided her back towards the firelight. 

“Everyone!” Dutch called out and the sounds of laughter died. Eyes turned to stare Nettie down and she wanted to squirm but couldn’t quite muster up the motivation for it. “Nettie here is joining our gang!” The cheer that rang up could probably be heard for miles. They weren’t terribly good at hiding out, Nettie thought as her mind wandered. She felt a blush rise up in her face, maybe from the drink. Probably. “Miss Grimshaw, if you could find a spot of her to sleep tonight?” An older woman, her hair done up in an older style, stood up with a nod. She wasn’t nearly as drunk as everyone else, her steps sure and solid as she sailed off. 

“Now, how about we celebrate our newest member!” Dutch called out. Nettie looked at him, confused and feeling a little stupid. Weren’t they already celebrating? No one seemed to question it and she found herself pulled down on a log to sit once again. Javier was sitting beside her, playing a loud tune in Spanish. She couldn’t quite understand it, not well versed and the words sounded different when they were sung and she was a little too drunk but it sounded like it was about lovers. They usually were. The whole gang pretended to know the chorus and everyone sang along.  
After he was done, an old man with a dirty beard picked up a banjo and started banging out a tune. A young woman, black hair braided around her head like a crown, was dancing with along with another young girl. They held hands and twirled in time with the lively tune. Nettie couldn’t have managed it if she’d wanted to the state she was in. Instead, she leaned back against Javier to watch the two girls enjoy themselves. Javier laughed and wrapped and arm around her shoulder. 

“I’m glad you decided to stay.” He said, his voice quiet and in her ear. 

“Don’t think I had much choice. That Dutch, he don’t really take no for an answer, does he?” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, hitting Javier’s shoulder hard. The world was spinning even with her eyes closed. Once again, she’d managed to drink more than she intended. 

“No he doesn’t.” There was laughter in his voice. “You okay, _corazón_?”

“Aw, I always drink too much.” She said, smirking at no one, her eyes still closed. Soft lips kissed, chaste, at the base of her jaw. 

“Then let’s get you to bed. You’re going to regret this tomorrow.” Javier said, shifting behind her. 

“I already regret it.” Her words fell out of her as he lifted her up, head lolling back. “Joining up with a bunch of degenerates, that’s going to come back to haunt me. No good!” For a minute she struggled to raise an arm, trying to punctuate her words with a raised hand. Javier laughed.

“Where are you sleeping?” He asked. She shrugged, she hadn’t even asked and no one had told her.

“Under the stars!” Opening her eyes, the stars above her doubled up for a few moments. “Oh, there’s too many of them, though.” 

“Ah, I got you.” He was still laughing. Nettie suspected he was laughing at her. Javier set her down far more gently than she deserved only for Nettie’s hand to dart out and snatch his shirt down. He stumbled, falling to the side onto one arm as she used her strength to pull the man closer. “Or you have me!” He didn’t protest though, when she curled against his chest and pressed her face against him. 

“So you can be soft.” His voice was low in her ear, private. Nettie inhaled his scent, liquor and woodsmoke and tobacco and herbs. 

“Only when I’m very drunk.” She slurred into his shirt. He was warm and solid when the world was rolling around her.

“A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.” Javier said, lowering himself the rest of the way to the bedroll beside her. An arm wrapped around her and her treacherous heart liked it. 

“You’re an ass.” Her words trailed off, mostly caught in the fabric of his shirt as she drifted off to sleep. Javier’s laugh faded away with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six chapters and no smut? I’m definitely slipping.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Time just got away from me, but I'll always come back to you.

A boot nudged her side. Her head felt like it was going to split open and she curled in on herself, pulling her hat down to cover her eyes only to find her hat was missing. Laughter, heavy, was directed at her she knew. What evil bastard would laugh at her at her lowest. Cracking an eye open, she looked up to see Arthur standing over her. 

“Regretting your choices yet?” He asked, crouching beside her. 

“Always.” Nettie moaned, pressing her face into the dirty blanket she had been sleeping on. 

“Well, deal with it. We got work to do.” A small tin cup was set by her head before Arthur stood and walked away. Forcing herself to sit up, she picked up the cup. Black coffee nearly free of grounds let steam up into the crisp air of morning. 

“Hey, _corazón_,” Javier was walking over with his own cup of coffee. “Up and at ‘em already?” He crossed his arms.

“Morgan seemed insistent I be awake.” She inhaled the warmth, letting the aches in her body settle into something tolerable. “Said we had work to do.” Javier nodded as she spoke, looking over his shoulder to the tent she vaguely remembered Dutch using. 

“Yeah, we got a job planned for today. Wouldn’t hurt to have another set of capable hands on it.” Nettie rankled, still unhappy to be awake and stood up to glare at Javier. 

“What makes you think I’m capable?” She snarled and infuriatingly Javier only smirked at her. 

“From what I heard the only reason Arthur got away from you was because you let him go. You think that’s easy?” 

“Didn’t seem so hard to me.” Nettie shrugged, rubbing her face a bit and scratching under her now very messy braid. Javier only laughed, tossing his head back. Her eyes looked him over while he was distracted, taking a sip of the still too hot coffee. He was dressed nicely, a tight fitting blue jacket and white shirt looking far too clean for such dirty surroundings. 

“That’s what I’m saying _cariño_. Need someone as good as that with us.” He patted her shoulder, guiding her towards the horses. A small group had already gathered, looking ready to go and Nettie wasn’t even fully awake yet. Arthur was brushing out his mare while a slim man with messy black hair hanging in his face leaned back against a crate. They both looked over as Javier forced Nettie to walk. As the lanky man stood up and watched her, she recognized that face after she took a moment. John Marston, another high ranking Van der Linde, worth three thousand she was pretty sure. Rumors said he’d killed his first man when he was thirteen.

“This that woman who caught you?” His face fell into an easy grin, smug and self sure. Nettie wasn’t sure she cared for it as he slid his eyes over to Arthur, jabbing at him with his words. Arthur turned his attention back to Boadicea with a grumble. 

“If she caught me think how easy she’d catch you, Marston.” He growled. Nettie’s eyes glanced back and forth between the two men. There was something going on between them that had nothing to do with her, that was clear as day. 

“She coming with us?” John asked, sounding not too sure about her. How dare he question her ability. She should have gone after him instead of Arthur. 

“We need the crowd control. She’s a good shot.” Arthur finished fussing over his horse, tucking the brush into the saddlebags before checking the girth. 

“Better than you.” She slipped in, glancing at Arthur who conceded with a nod of his head, Javier chuckling behind her. “What the hell are we doing anyway? You just said ‘we got work to do’ and walked off.” Nettie lowered her voice into a pale imitation of Arthur’s gravel tone, making John and Javier burst into laughter. Arthur scowled, checking that his rifle was secured to the saddle well enough.

“Robbing a train, set to pass through near here in an hour.” He gave a small cough to clear his throat and tried to regain some semblance of control over the conversation. Nettie looked up at the sky, judging by the sun it was near eight in the morning. She sucked her teeth as she considered it.

“Too close to camp.” She pointed out. “I’d find this place in a day if I knew you’d robbed a train. First thing I’d do would be check around.” Arthur was silent for a long moment, looking at something small on his saddle. 

“You got a better idea?” He asked. It was hard to judge what he was thinking but she hoped it wasn’t annoyance. 

“Maybe, yeah.” She was silent until Javier nudged her elbow. “Say, we get the train to stop for a minute. Just a bit. Just long enough to get the passengers off the train. We slip into the crowd and get back on the train before it starts off again, then, wait a stop before robbing it blind.” It was a new concept, trying to think how to outsmart the police rather than work with them. “That way, they don’t know when we got on exactly and they can’t pin it to one place. Say, two of us hang back on the horses and follow behind. The train doesn’t even have to stop for us to rob them, which is better.” John looked like he wanted to argue with her about that fact. “If they can’t get more guns on the train then we’ve got more control over the situation. Ain’t you ever jumped off a moving train?” She asked, crossing her arms and smiling at John like she already knew the answer. John grumbled but shrugged. 

“Alright then, how do you suggest we get the train to stop?” Arthur asked, not entirely convinced. Nettie glanced over to Hangman, happily pulling tufts of hay from a bale near him. 

————

The conductor for the train leaned way out the window, seeing something on the tracks in front of him. It was the middle of nowhere, scrubs and dirt as far as the eye could see. A mile ahead of him, a cart was stopped on the train and the horse pulling it was down. A man was waving his hat at the train, calling out for him to stop. Reluctantly, he pulled the break and called back. 

“What’s going on?” He asked the man as he set his hat back on his head.

“Horse went down. Carts full of dynamite, we’re headed for the mining operation near here.” The man wiped at his neck with a bandana, shoving sweaty black hair from his face. “We’re trying to get him back up but it’s not looking good. Sent a guy ahead for another horse but it’s taking a while.”

“Well at least push the wagon off the tracks!” The conductor demanded, glad he had stopped. 

“It’s heavy, sir!” The man rasped back. “And there’s only the two of us here.” 

It took a few minutes, but a number of passengers were easy enough to convince to help and a sizable group climbed out of the train to help push the heavily loaded wagon off the tracks. The horse, miraculously, managed to stand and walk off whatever had downed it. The two men thanked the conductor profusely, trying to press a few dollars into his pocket which he refused. With a sigh, he settled himself behind the engine once again and got the train rolling along the tracks again. He gave a wave to the two men as the train passed them. 

In the passenger car, Nettie and Javier settled into a seat in the back and tried very hard to look bored and unremarkable. Nettie, well practiced in looking unnoticeable, leaned on her hand, covering her scar with her hand as she watched the scenery pass. 

“That went well.” Javier said softly, leaning over her shoulder like he was enjoying the scenery too. He was warm against her side, hand resting lightly on her knee. 

“Look, Javi, whatever happened last night...” She sighed heavily, regretting her drinking choices. 

“Nothing happened.” Javier was quick to interrupt her. 

“What?” That was shocking enough to make her look at him. It wouldn’t have been the first time she thrust her drunk self upon a halfway handsome man, and Javier was more than halfway handsome. He feigned a wounded look. 

“You think I would take advantage of a poor woman who drank too much?” A smirk was fighting to show itself on his face. Nettie almost laughed but forced a scowl instead and looked back out the window. 

“You want a cookie for doing the bare minimum?” It was easy to cover any feelings she might have with harsh words. 

“Not at all,” The hand on her knee got a little heavier as he leaned closer. “You’re always welcome to share my bedroll when you get too drunk.” Nettie scoffed at the offer. 

“Think I just decided to give up drinking.” There was almost a laugh in her tone and she pushed her knee back against Javier’s leg beside her. It wasn’t like her to flirt, but she was feeling a little exhilarated that her plan was working. They had climbed in with the small crowd without even a backwards look to Arthur and John. No one had questioned them as they slid into their seat. 

“Aw, don’t be so quick to give it up. Tell you what, when we finish here, I’ll buy you a good drink. Some tequila.” 

“Oh,” That was enough to make her sit up. “I do like tequila...” She couldn’t deny that she was flirting back with him. That she was at least a little impressed that he hadn’t tried anything despite, from what she could remember, she’d pawed at him pretty heavily. Not many men she’d met would have been that polite. And he was handsome and the hand squeezing her knee was tight. Slipping her own hand down, one eye sweeping across the train car to make sure no one was looking, she cupped Javier’s bulge. He gave a small yelp of surprise, his hand tightened on her knee.

“Hush.” She scolded him, kneading at the quickly hardening lump. 

“Ay, _querida_, not here or we’re never going to finish our job. Later, I promise.” His voice was a little shaky and it made her laugh to herself. He slipped a hand, thin fingers, around her wrist and Nettie let him pull her hand away. 

“You’re paying for the tequila.” She told him without looking back at him, feeling him grin against the back of her neck. The ghost of a kiss against the exposed skin above her collar sent a shiver down her spine. 

“You’re going to send me to the poorhouse over that, aren’t you?” His voice was in her ear and she pointedly kept her attention focused out the window. 

“If I can help it.” 

They managed to keep their hands to themselves through two train stops. Around a bend, Nettie caught sight of Arthur and John sitting on their horses overlooking the track and she took that as a signal. Nudging Javier with her elbow, she pulled up the bandana Arthur had lent her and they both stood up. She shot her gun up into the ceiling, making everyone jump and a few people shriek. 

“Alright! Give us your valuables and no one gets hurt.” Her voice carried, loud through the small train car. Javier was up before her, a sack already out and demanding items from the passengers. The door behind her opened as a guard rushed in but Nettie was ready for him. She threw her hand holding her pistol back, catching him in the face and the guard crumpled to the ground. Leveling her gun in a sweeping motion across the passenger train she met as many people’s eyes as she could. 

“Anyone else want to try us?” Her voice boomed, echoing against the narrow walls. Javier reached the other end and waved a hand to signal he was done. Nodding her head, the two retreated through the baggage car. Nettie was throwing open luggage as quick as she could, rifling through personal items to grab money clips and jewelry bags as Javier blocked the door with a few crates. Once she was satisfied with the haul in the, now heavy, sack, she gave a quick nod of her head and they moved out onto the back end of the last train car. John and Arthur were riding close, guns drawn to cover them. Boaz was running flat out beside the train car and Javier jumped, scrambling to stay in the saddle as best he could. Hangman was keeping away from the train, mostly unused to being so close to the loud machine. There was no time to wait for her horse to figure it out, guards were throwing themselves against the blocked door. In a minute or so they’d break it down and she’d be caught. Javier held out an arm and she held her breath as she jumped.

It was nearly a miss. If Javier hadn’t sunk a hand tight into her side and jerked, she would have fallen. As it was, she found herself in his lap face to face with his surprised expression. She was afforded no time to adjust to the unusual position as guards on the train broke out onto the back ledge and started firing at them. Her thoughts raced and without taking a second to consider her options, she pulled Javier’s gun from its holster and returned fire at their assailants as Javier kicked Boaz into a flat gallop and his arm snaked across her back. The riders raced away from the train across the desert. He kept an arm around her waist, pressing her tight against his chest as she struggled to stay seated in the odd angle. 

By the time the train was out of sight, Nettie had managed to at least catch her breath and find her seat. They were left awkwardly figuring out how to dismount, ending up with Nettie tripping and sprawling out across the dirt as Arthur and John pulled up beside them.

“What the hell was that?” John asked, bewildered. 

“I improvised.” Nettie explained. 

“Hate to see what you do when you actually plan.” Arthur snipped, glaring at Javier who was seemingly reluctant to dismount just yet. “Did you manage to actually get anything before you decided to act like you was in the circus?” Nettie scoffed and held up the bag she’d tied to her belt. 

“Enough to shut you up, I’m betting. And Javier’s is twice as full as mine.” She responded, throwing the bag at him. Arthur caught the burlap sack, opening it to rifle through the contents. He made a small satisfied sound in the back of his throat, glancing at her. 

“Looks like a good haul. Here,” He pulled out a money clip from the bag, lobbing it at her. “Your cut.” She caught the billfold, her thumb rubbing across the edges of the money in admiration. With a flick of her wrist she tucked it down the front of her corset, ignoring how the men’s eyes trailed after her hand. “Gang rules are after a job we go our separate ways and don’t head straight back to camp. Wait a day or two before you go back.” Nettie nodded as Arthur gave instructions. He sounded very much like a teacher she’d had once.They’d been a good teacher.   
“Seems reasonable. Guess I’ll see y’all in a few days, then.” She tipped her hat just barely to them and turned her attention to Hangman. The horse nosed at her as she checked his tack for a moment. Arthur watched her for a minute longer before kicking his horse off down the nearby road. John tipped his hat in return and started loping in the opposite direction of Arthur.

“Yeah, yeah. You can lay down on cue but you can’t get close enough to a train for me to jump on you?” She playfully scolded him but he just nudged at her pocket he knew she kept treats in. 

“You steal him from a circus?” Javier asked, leaning on the horn of his saddle as he watched her. Nettie smiled to herself as she fed Hangman a peppermint.

“Got caught out in the Heartlands with a broken arm once. If my old horse hadn’t been willing to let me mount while he was laying down, I wouldn’t have made it back to town. Make it a point to teach my horses things other than just how to be ridden ever since then.” To demonstrate, Nettie stepped back and gave a deep bow to Hangman. His ears flicked back and forth for a second before he returned the bow. Tucking one front leg under, he leaned in and dipped his head low for a moment. When he popped back up, she gave him another peppermint and a good scratch on his chest. Javier whistled and she wondered if maybe she was showing off, just a little. 

“Impressive. What do you say we have those drinks now?” He sat up straight, gathering the reins in one hand as Nettie mounted up in a single, fluid motion. 

“Thought Arthur said to split up?” She had no intention of actually listening to Arthur. Javier gave a small laugh and started walking Boaz down the road. 

“Ah, as long as we’re not followed back to camp, what does it matter?” Together they headed towards the small town on the horizon. 

“Well, if two known members of a gang are seen celebrating in the area of a recent train robbery, that’s suspicious.” It was a wonder, to her, that this gang managed to operate as long as they had without getting caught. Seemed like they shared one brain cell among the lot of them, and it was used exclusively by Arthur. 

“You’re not a known member of the gang.” Javier countered.

“I will be if we keep this up.” She didn’t regret it much, but it was unavoidable. “Can’t complain about the payout though.” 

“You always keep your money down your shirt?” He asked, giving her a side glance. 

“You looking to rob me?” Nettie laughed to herself. “Don’t think I’m quite dumb enough to tell a known thief where I keep my money.”

——————-

The town was small, a single saloon with a few rentable rooms above. Nettie leaned back in the old chair, her boots up on the table as Javier got a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of liquor from the bar. He slid her a tumbler before setting bottle on the table and sitting down. 

“Ah, places like this never have good liquor. Gotta be closer to the border to have good tequila.” He popped the top off and sloppily poured them both shots. “You ever been to Mexico?” Nettie shook her head as she reached out for the drink. 

“No, just picked up Spanish here and there. It’s been useful.” Raising her glass, Javier clicked his against hers and they both tossed it back. She shook her head and gave a rough growl as the liquor burned all the way down. 

“A useful language, huh?” Javier looked up at her from under the brim of his hat. Nettie reached out and popped the brim, knocking the hat into his face. 

“Yeah, nobody expects the ugly white woman to speak Spanish.” Her laugh was loud as Javier pulled his hat off and set it on the table. Pouring another round, he motioned for her to take the shot. “Saved my ass more than once, especially with the Del Lobo.” She saluted him with her drink before tossing it back. “Those fuckers are always planning the nastiest shit. I have to give it to the Van der Lindes, you’re all a sight nicer than the other assholes I’ve had to deal with.” It occurred to her that she was probably talking too loudly to be tossing around gang names so easily. “Practically gentlemen.”

“Well, thank you. I think.” Javier watched her carefully as he sipped at his shot. 

“Oh, it’s a compliment, I promise.” She reassured him. Taking a break from swallowing the entire bottle whole, Nettie leaned back and looked around the room. “So if this is bad tequila, what’s good tequila like?”

“Tastes better, burns less.” He mused, taking a minute to think about it. 

“Guess rotgut is the same everywhere. What’s Mexico like?” Suddenly intrigued, she leaned forward. Leaning heavily on her elbows, she watched him closely as Javier looked away. He took a long time to answer. 

“Beautiful. Hot. Different from here.” There was longing in his voice and Nettie watched as his eyes got a far off look in them. “What about you, _Bonita_? Where are you from?” Shaking off the dark shadow on his face, Javier filled her glass again as he asked. 

“Back East. Ended up out here after a while.” Javier’s face twisted as he watched her close off. Maybe it was rude, he was buying her drinks after all. Liquor for a backstory seemed fair enough. With a heavy sigh, Nettie downed the shot in front of her.

“I was in a bad marriage,” her thumb slid across the scars on the side of her face. “Ran away from my husband after putting a bullet in him. Sadly he didn’t die. Floundered for a while until I started bringing in bounties for money. I try to stay out of reach of my husband and with enough money in my pocket to not starve. I’ve gotten particularly good at bounty hunting. Last time I saw Arthur was also the last time I saw my husband so I’m out in a land as close to hell as I can imagine, avoiding my demons. Same as you, I imagine.” 

“Can’t say I’m hiding from a husband.” 

“But you do have demons you’re hiding from.” He didn’t respond and Nettie reached out to fill his shot glass. They were nearly halfway through the bottle now. “Don’t end up running with a gang if you don’t have demons.” He took the shot, nodding at her as he grimaced at the burn. “Let me see if I remember the bounty posters,” Nettie forgoed the shot glass and took a slug from the bottle. 

“_Se busca por asesinato y traición_ Wanted for murder and...betrayal?” She swirled the bottle, liquid sloshing in it. Her voice tripped over the foreign words. 

“Treason.” Javier corrected her, anger in his voice. He clearly didn’t think of it as treason. Nettie nodded her head in understanding, being mislabeled was something she had intimate knowledge of. 

“Ah,” There was a looseness sinking into her shoulder now, as the liquor worked on her. Setting the bottle down, she pushed it aside. “Better cut myself off before I drink too much.” Javier made a disappointed sound in his throat. 

“Thought you were going to drink me broke, _Bonita_.” Nettie glared at him.

“Don’t call me pretty.” She growled at him. Javier snorted, reaching for the bottle. 

“Why? Do you think yourself that homely?” Nettie pulled the bottle from his hand and set it aside again.

“No. I know I’m not homely, even with the lovely anniversary gift my husband gave me.” Javier, flustered, sat back in his chair. 

“Then why do you get so mad at me when I say it?”

“Because every single time a man calls me ‘pretty’, he wants something from me. Every single god damned time a word in the positive of my appearance leaves the lips of a man, it’s because they’re trying to get something out of me. Especially after this.” Her hand flicked across her cheek and she leaned forward on the table. Javier sat up, watching her and Nettie took a moment to swallow back the anger that Javier certainly didn’t deserve. 

“Well, _Loba_, I thought you wanted something from me last night.” He raised an eyebrow at her. Nettie relaxed back into a smile. 

“Now, _Loba_ I like.” 

“How about you and me rent a room and head back to camp tomorrow?” Javier’s hand snaked over hers, his thumb rubbing encouragingly against the bare skin of her wrist. It felt nice to be touched so gently. Her eyes danced over the bartender then up the stairs beside the bar. 

“Alright.” The word pulled Javier out of his seat and to the bar, leaning forward to speak with the bartender and sliding coins across the stained wood. Nettie didn’t wait for him. Corking the half empty bottle, she carried it with her as she headed up the stairs. Javier trotted after her to catch up, slipping a hand around her waist to guide her back down the hall. Dimly lit, the last door in the hall was cast in deep shadow as Javier fumbled to fit the key into the lock. The satisfying click of the knob as it turned sent a shiver down her spine. 

The room was small and of questionable cleanliness. Javier followed as Nettie moved inside and leaned up against the small vanity sitting opposite the bed, shucking her coat off and tossing it over the back of the vanity chair. Her eyes moved over the bed, considering how much she trusted the saloon to change the sheets regularly. Javier moved into her vision, looking down at her.

“So,” Without much preamble, he began unbuttoning her blouse. “You save my life,”

“Don’t think I really did, I just made your day a little easier.” Nettie interrupted him, reaching up to still his hands. She pushed them aside to unbutton her clothing herself. “You would have gotten away from those idiots, eventually, I imagine.”

“Such faith in my abilities.” As her shirt fell open, his hand slipped inside, rubbing against the boning of the riding corset she wore. Nettie snorted in derision. 

“More like lack of faith in theirs.” Javier’s hands were already pulling the laces of her corset loose. She unbuttoned her own pants, toeing her boots off before kicking free of the britches. There was an eagerness in her, growing by the second, that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Not that she’d tell him, but Javier was bringing out something in her that made Nettie almost afraid of its softness. Of how soft it made her feel. Of how much she liked it. The way he smiled down at her though, she felt like he already knew. 

Her corset fell away and Javier moved his hands to hook his thumbs around the waist of her drawers. Finding the tie at the back, they slipped off easily once loosened and Javier’s hands caressed her bare backside. Not one to let things hang uneven, Nettie reached up to free him of his clothes. 

Even as she worked his clothing free, Javier’s fingers worked her. They slipped between her legs, finding that spot so easily she wondered if he’d found a map for it. Halfway done unbuttoning his shirt, she had to stop as a moan rumbled low in her chest. Resting her head against his chest, Nettie’s hands fisted around the fabric of his shirt. Javier rested his free hand against the nape of her neck but kept his other hand moving. Small circles against her pearl, light enough to raise her blood and make her hips grind against his hand. 

It seemed he had no plan to let her finish undressing him, pulling moans and whimpers out of her as her pleasure rose. Pooling between her thighs, she felt herself coiling tight as Javier slipped a slender finger inside her then two. Spreading her a moment, he returned to his previous work with freshly slicked fingers, the sensation making Nettie whimper embarrassingly into Javier’s chest. 

“You going to come for me?” He whispered in her ear, his teeth grazing her lobe before his tongue slid across the edge. She wanted to, too far gone to care that she sounded desperate. She _was_ desperate. 

“Yes,” Nettie sobbed, “please.” Her thighs were trembling under the strain.

“Please, what?” He picked up the pace, the tremble moving to her entire body. 

“Please, I want to come.” Her voice shook.

“Come on my hand.” His voice was stern, and it felt like it broke her on the inside. She came with a cry, Javier working her through it until she begged him to stop. When she was left huffing and sweating, he let go of her and unbuttoned his pants one handed. Once his pants were down far enough to free his member, he began stroking himself with the hand still wet with Nettie’s arousal. Given a moment to catch her breath, she took back control. 

Pushing Javier back into the chair in front of the vanity, Nettie straddled him before taking his cock and lining it up with her waiting entrance. Slowly, enough to make Javier groan, she slid down onto him until she was sitting flush against his hips. Taking a moment to press down as hard as she could, Javier hissed in appreciation. Satisfied, Nettie’s thighs flexed as she began riding him, rocking back and forth against his hips. 

He gazed at her, mounted on him in nothing but her chemise. The ribbon at the collar pulled undone easily and hung loose on her frame. His hands slid up her sides, rucking the shift over her breasts. Calloused fingers brushed over her nipples, making her suck in a breath sharply. A soft smile spread across Javier’s face.

_“Hermosa.” _ It was hardly a whisper, his lips moving without his permission. The reverent word slipped out and Nettie stilled her motions. With a sharp flourish, she plunged her hand into the pocket of her coat still hanging on the back of the chair. A knife, hinged, swung open in her hand and she pressed the tip into the side of his ribs.

_“Dije que te apuñalaría si me llamaba Hermosa otra vez”_ Nettie growled down at him. A glint flashed across Javier’s eyes and his grip on her hips tightened strong enough to bruise. With a buck of his hips, he pressed himself even deeper inside her, nearly lifting her off her feet. A deep jolt of pleasure ran through her, knocking her head back and pulling a gasping moan out of her. 

“Do it.” Javier snarled at her, bucking his hips again. Another cry was wrung out of her and she dipped her head to the crook of his shoulder. The knife clattered to the ground as Javier stood up, his grip on her hips strong, and pushed her back onto the vanity. Rutting into her, one hand braced against the wall by her head, the flimsy furniture groaned and shook under their weight. She clung to him, feeling the buzz of pleasure spreading up her back to wrap around her brain. Her face grew warm as she flushed. Her breath came fast, too fast, matching in time with Javier’s as he pressed his cheek to hers. 

They came together, Javier’s spend splashed on the floor when he pulled out. He gave a breathy cry as white strands pumped out. For a moment, neither moved, still out of breath and coming down from their high. Javier’s lips pressed against her neck, then her jaw and Nettie could feel him smile as his face nestled against her shoulder. 

_"Probémoslo sin el Navaja la próxima vez, Loba.”_ His hands slipped under her bottom, pulling her upwards as he stood straight. Nettie held onto his shoulders as he carried her to the bed and laid her down. Exhausted, and still a little drunk, she sprawled back across the sheets. Javier gave a small laugh as he laid down beside her, his hand trailing up her side before pulling her against his chest. She let him, her face falling against his shoulder as he went to brush her hair from her face. 

“Don’t say it.” She mumbled against his shirt as he took a breath before speaking. 

“I’m going to think it, though.” He teased, rubbing his thumb in soft circles at the base of her jaw. Nettie groaned in frustration but still smiled, hiding her face in his shirt. Sleep was creeping into her head, taking over. Her eyes were too heavy to hold open any longer. 

“You’re an idiot.” She mumbled, feeling Javier shift under her. He pulled the rumpled sheets up over the both of them, resting his chin on the top of her head. As she drifted off, she felt his hand still gently stroking down her arm in a tender way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder you can follow me on twitter @LamourScarlett I post updates and maybe even sneak peeks.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s just say the ADHD is working full force. In an effort to combat that, the chapters might be a little shorter for a while.

A warm hand sliding up her side woke her. Nettie shifted, taking a deep breath as her eyes fluttered open. Her back was pressed to Javier’s chest and she could feel his excitement pressed against the back of her thigh. His hand still roamed over her skin, gentle as it slipped around her breast. A small moan left her as his fingers plucked at her nipple. Javier pressed his lips to her shoulder, an almost chaste kiss of affection. 

“You are nice to wake up to.” He murmured in her ear as his hand ghosted across her stomach and found its way between her legs. His voice was a hoarse whisper as praise spilled from his lips. Nettie squirmed against the rising pleasure inside her, wetness between her legs growing more noticeable. Javier wrapped his free arm across her chest, holding her tight against him. “You ready for me?” 

“Yes,” She gasped as he plunged a digit into her. He hissed for a second. 

“All that just for me?” A warm tongue slid across the lobe of her ear as Javier pulled her leg up and shifted to seat the swollen head of he cock at her waiting entrance. Nettie gave a pitiful, needy whine. Her hand found his hip, skin warm under her fingers as she dug in, pulling him to her. With a laugh, he slid inside her torturously slow. He gave a long moan as he pressed up inside her, pulling her leg back over his. “Oh, you’re like silk.” Once fully seated, Javier held still and tense against her. He waited until she was gasping before moving in slow,languid thrusts and pulls. 

“Feel yourself,” Pulling her hand from his hip, he pressed her fingers against his shaft as it slid in and out of her, slick with her arousal. “so wet for me.” Unable to control himself, he buried his face in her shoulder, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin while Nettie pressed her face into the bed. “[endearment].[endearment].” Word she didn’t know the meaning of but understood all the same came in a stuttering, shaky voice as Javier’s paced quickened. His fingers slipped from her hand, moving in small circles against her button, forcing her breath faster from her as their climaxes chased each other. 

She stiffened as her hips jerked back against him and Javier moved to clutch her close to him with both arms across her chest. Pulling free, he spilled onto the worn sheets and hid his moan in her neck. The cry in her throat, near a sob, was louder than she intended. Her hands wrapped around Javier’s forearms, the muscles tense and tight under her palms. Together, they drifted down, waiting for the air to return to their lungs. 

“Good morning.” Javier huffed, pliant against her. She found it in her to snort at him but waited a moment before pulling free of his grasp to dress. 

“Good morning.” It was a struggle to keep from smiling, and she didn’t fight that hard. Turning away from the bed to keep him from seeing the grin he already knew was there, Nettie picked up her drawers and pulled them on before looking for her corset. It was a learned skill to put on her own corset without help and she had learned it long ago. As her hands went to tighten the laces, Javier’s hands rest on hers to move them aside. Pulling the laces tight, he kissed against the back of her neck. She pushed him off her half heartedly, tying the string herself before pulling on her pants. 

“Wasn’t expecting that kind of wake up.” Nettie joked as she shrugged into her blouse and started buttoning. Javier stepped away, grabbing up what few things he’d taken off last night. 

“I couldn’t resist.” He admitted, buckling his belt while smirking at her. 

“And I’m sure you tried very hard.” The banter was light hearted, and she was thankful she could ignore how she felt a little while longer. As she settled her hat on her head, Nettie headed for the door. “They’re going to be expecting us back soon, I imagine.” Javier’s hand slipped to her waist, trying to pull her back. 

“Or... we could wait another day at least.” His voice had returned to its light, melodic tones. 

“Lord, man. Even God took a day off.” Nettie laughed, shoving him back. 

“Ah,” Javier clicked his tongue, disappointed, but smiled and held the door open for her. “If you say so, _Loba_.” 

——————

They rode back into camp, laughing after Javier taught her dirty things to say in Spanish. The sun was just reaching its crest, heat turning oppressive as the wind died down. Marston was standing guard, eyes still distrustful of her as they rode in. She couldn’t blame him, except he had gotten his share while Javier and she had done all the hard work. 

“Thought I told you to split up.” Arthur’s voice was sullen. He had been chopping wood, shirt off and sweating in the heat. Nettie’s eyes roamed over his back for a moment before she ducked her eyes and dismounted. 

“We weren’t followed.” Javier argued. “You worry too much, brother.” Something rankled between the two of them and Nettie’s eyes darted back and forth. The words were light, but there was a tension simmering underneath. Not wanting to get in the middle of it, but suspecting she was the cause of it, she lead Hangman to the small corral beside the ruins of the old ranch house. 

He was glad to be free of his saddle, kicking his heels up a bit and trotting proudly around the fenced area. The other horses snorted and moved out of his way, complaining loudly. A fine boned white stallion took offense and kicked out at him as the stockier horse bucked past. 

“He going to start a fight?” Dutch said, leaning his arms on the fence beside her. Nettie leaned her head to the side as she watched her mount act a fool. 

“He doesn’t get much free time, I’m afraid.” She turned to lean back against the splintery fence. Dutch gave a small laugh and opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by shouting on the other side of camp. 

“You know as well as I do, the rules are there to protect us!” Arthur’s deep voice carried. 

“You’re a stubborn old goat, _cabrón_. We weren’t followed, no one recognized us.” Javier responded, not cowed by Arthur’s size or presence at all. 

“Excuse me, Miss.” Dutch tipped his hat to her and walked across the camp at a fast clip. The two men were squaring off, looking ready to fight. It reminded Nettie a bit of two dogs barking at each other, hackles raised. Before Dutch could even manage to get across camp, they fell into each other. Fists swung, colliding with solid bodies and they dropped to the ground, scuffling together. Nettie walked over, joining the small crowd that was forming.

“Do they normally fight like this?” She asked the young Black woman standing next to her. The girl shook her head, looking more confused than anything. 

“No, usually Javier and Arthur get along real well.” She looked Nettie over, her attention pulled from the fight. “I’m Tilly.” Her hand was offered and Nettie took a moment to take it.

“Nettie.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” Tilly said, almost impressed. Her eyes drifted back to the fight Dutch and Hosea were working to break up. “Arthur said that train job was a good payoff.” 

“It was.” She looked back at the two men, now held apart by the two leaders. Javier had a split lip and a bruise on his jaw starting to show while Arthur was sporting a black eye. Both men were heaving for air, still angry. Hosea was pulling Arthur away, talking low and quiet in his ear while Dutch was pushing Javier in the opposite direction. 

“You got a tent?” Tilly asked, dragging Nettie’s attention away. She nodded, still not looking at the girl. “I can show you where you can put it up. The women sleep over here.” The young woman was already walking off and Nettie had to trot after her to keep up. 

Set up beside an old wagon, several pallets were laid out to keep bedrolls off the ground. A young girl, pale and freckled, was absorbed in a book when Nettie walked up. Tilly nudged her with the toe of her boot and nodded toward Nettie when the girl looked up. 

“This is Mary Beth,” Tilly introduced her and the girl stood up, blushing as she tucked the book behind her back and held out a hand. 

“Oh, nice to meet you!” She said. Nettie took her hand, finding it delicate and soft in comparison to her own. “Nettie, right? Arthur was talking you up after that train job.”

“Mary Beth, have you seen Karen?” Tilly interrupted her. Nettie’s eyes cut between the two women, a little surprised to hear Arthur had apparently been complimenting her behind her back. Her mouth pulled down a hair.

“Oh, she’s around. Think maybe her and Sean went into town.” Nettie only half listened, looking around the camp for Dutch or Hosea. Spying the older of the two still talking with Arthur, sitting at a table near the campfire, she made her excuses and walked over. It didn’t escape her notice that the two men’s conversation died as she neared. 

“Hosea, Arthur,” She tipped her hat to the two of them before turning her focus back on the gang leader. “Hosea, we might want to be moving on from here.” He leaned back in his chair, resting an arm on the table beside him as he listened to her. 

“Why ever for, my dear? Arthur said the job went off without a hitch.” He gestured across the table to Arthur, who wasn’t meeting her eye. Nettie grumbled to herself, swallowing down the feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

“It went off fine, but that was a big job. It’s going to draw notice and the Van der Linde gang isn’t usually in these parts. A smart bounty hunter could put that together and come after us.” _Us._ The word didn’t even stall in her mouth. How readily she accepted the idea. “Now, they won’t find us easily, since we made a point of keep the job far enough away from here. But they will find us if we hang around, or do any other big jobs. I can’t hunt any big jobs here anyways, we should head out.” Hosea seemed to actually listen to her, surprisingly enough. Waiting until she’d finished, he nodded along as if agreeing with her. 

“That does make sense. What do you think, Arthur?” He turned to look across the table and Nettie followed his gaze. Arthur still wouldn’t look at her, choosing instead to pull a pre rolled cigarette out of the pocket of his shirt. 

“Make sense. We could head further out West, closer to California.” He suggested, setting the cigarette between his lips. The black eye was dark against his skin, the eye swollen and half shut. 

“I like that idea, less law out there, at least until we hit the coast.” Nettie agreed with him and Arthur seemed surprised by her reaction, raising an eyebrow at her as he lit his cigarette. Hosea looked between them, clapping his hands together in finalization. 

“Alright then, I’ll go to talk to Dutch. You have a good point.” He waggled his finger at Nettie as he stood up and walked off. Arthur and Nettie were left in awkward silence. He scowled at the table, sucking down smoke for a long minute before blowing it up into the blue sky. Nettie’s face matched his except she kept her eyes on him. 

“Why’d you pick a fight with Javier?” She asked, already suspecting the answer.

“You two were reckless. We got our rules for a reason.” He kept up the lie. Not wanting to play the stupid game any longer, Nettie turned on her heels and marched off.


End file.
